


A Sudden Wave of Keen Emotion or Excitement

by blehgah



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, Intercrural Sex, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Non AU, Polyamory, Voyeurism, i promise it's not just sex based on these tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 16:51:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 44,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18642163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blehgah/pseuds/blehgah
Summary: Soonyoung, Seungkwan, and Chan gravitate to each other in different ways. Overlapping edges aren't necessarily a bad thing.Takes place around the MAMAs 2018.





	1. don't you want to see a man up close?

**Author's Note:**

> hello i'm back on jukebox!!! glad to be here. thanks to the mods for hosting this event again; it's always such a pleasure to write using music as inspiration. i'm also glad to have been introduced to years & years, so thanks for that too!!
> 
> my song was Hallelujah and i have a playlist on spotify [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/blehgah/playlist/4CQmUxGCyrC0CuGleaneGU?si=Ntd2RsZCQCu3iko8mPgnmw). i'll be honest: this song ended up being heavily influenced by hozier's no plan, which i would use as a summary for this fic if 1. the lyrics would fit and 2. i didn't hate that idea conceptually. it's on the aforementioned playlist, so if you're going to listen to a song on it i highly recommend no plan.

Tension always begins to rise as comeback draws nearer. The boys overwork themselves and exhaustion pulls them so taut that anxiety starts to seep through their seams, usually so tightly woven together. Sometimes it’s messy and sometimes they just barely stuff everything back into place before they face their own faces in the practice room mirror. But, usually, it’s doable.

Chan is guilty of pressuring himself into fine dust. Eventually, a diamond emerges, one that shines so brightly on stage, but the process is gruelling. Maybe even unnecessarily so. But old habits are hard to break.

_I’m going all in. It’s five in the morning._

It’s not quite five in the morning, but that’s not an unfamiliar place, either. There’s something comforting about the early morning, the vacant solitude of an hour where he should be asleep. There are no eyes, no cameras, only him and the gears in his head that turn and turn and turn without rest. They echo in the empty space of the practice room, soft against the surrounding mirrors like marshmallows rather than metal hitting glass.

_I ain’t even stopping, no. It’s five in the morning. I’m so devoted._

Devotion is a nice way of putting it. There’s good intent there, like Chan isn’t doing this for the fame and glory and, above all, recognition. Devotion to his fans. Devotion to dance. Devotion to music. Respect and admiration rather than greed.

Greed is so ugly. It’s selfish, ravenous, constant craving. Chan finds it a little unfair that ambition is often confused with greed, that the two are so often interchangeable in speech. But the shield of humility is a strong one, and using such an ugly word as a relief on its surface is the perfect way to keep critics at bay.

The late summer heat often throws a sheen of sweat over Chan’s skin, and it’s been a good excuse to opt for sleeveless shirts. Both his members and his fans have had a lot of things to say about the matter. Maybe Chan likes the attention.

But once the sun sets, sooner and sooner these days, cold creeps in with ease, uninvited spectres that haunt his bones.

He’s given a cold wake up call when he spots Seungkwan’s hooded face in the mirror. Chan comes to a complete halt, save for the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.

Seungkwan’s eyes meet his in the mirror. The sleep in them is stark under the white practice room lights.

“Chan-ah,” Seungkwan calls, and there, again, the sleep is evident.

Chan chances a glance at the wall clock. 3:55. Not quite five in the morning, but maybe close enough. If he had to make a guess, based on Seungkwan’s appearance, both in demeanour and in the room, it might as well have been five in the morning.

Chan slicks his hair out of his face. His hand obscures his vision, blocks his reflection from sending judging looks back at him to join Seungkwan's.

“You need to go to sleep,” Seungkwan continues. He’s slowly approaching; the cadence of his steps paired with the rough quality of his voice sends chills down Chan’s spine.

It’s baffling, the way the addition of a single person to the room has the ability to shrink Chan down to the size of a pea. He feels his age in that moment, the maknae of a group of thirteen.

Chan throws another glance at the clock, turning his whole head this time.

“Ah,” he says, “I didn’t realize the ti—”

A jacket to the face interrupts him.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Seungkwan snaps. Chan is surprised to see a nighttime monster outside of his bedroom closet.

For a second, all Chan can do is curl his fingers tight around the jacket. Seungkwan is toe to toe with him now, shadows under his eyes and around his mouth dark and thick enough to cast their own nightfall.

Chan scowls. “I’m not a child,” he snaps back. Maybe nighttime sharpens tongues. “I don’t need you to come pick me up when you think it’s past my bedtime.”

“If you’re not a child, why can’t you put on a fucking jacket?” Seungkwan rips the jacket from Chan’s grip and reaches for one of Chan’s wrists. The physical contact startles Chan into immediate pliancy and, yet again, Chan feels small. Too small for his sharp reaction. A baby wolf, teeth a little too big for his mouth, caging in his temper.

Seungkwan stuffs both of Chan’s arms into the jacket. The feeling is oddly familiar, reminiscent of their time backstage being dressed by their stylists.

“Where’s your phone?” Seungkwan huffs. He’s not looking Chan in the face.

“Um,” Chan mutters, “it’s charging.”

Seungkwan sighs. It’s a big, exaggerated thing, not unlike many of Seungkwan’s everyday gesticulations.

“Do you have it on ‘do not disturb’ or something?” Seungkwan asks. He barely moves his jaw as he speaks, like talking is too exhausting but he can’t help the words from coming out. He keeps a hand on Chan’s wrist and walks him over to retrieve his phone.

“Well, it is pretty late,” Chan mumbles in reply.

Seungkwan clicks his tongue and shakes his head. Exaggerated, like the mannerisms are the only thing his body can cling to in the late night.

“I called you, like, four times,” Seungkwan says. “Like, obviously you had to be here, I know you don’t have any other hobbies besides work, but I worried anyway, because it’s fucking four a.m. and you should be sleeping.”

“So what are you doing right now?” Chan bites back. One final strike.

Seungkwan throws Chan a look over his shoulder and Chan feels his body temperature drop to freezing. The sudden silence in the room that erupts when he disconnects his phone from the sound system drapes him in ice.

“Being responsible for my idiot maknae who needs more than three hours of sleep to function in a day,” Seungkwan spits.

They hold each other’s stare for a few breaths. Seungkwan softens afterwards; anger is exhausting, too.

“It’s hard to sleep when you’re not there,” Seungkwan tells him and turns and pulls him out of the room. The movement is disjointed and it’s jarring for Chan to suddenly deal with this information inflating in his head.

Walking out of the building is akin to entering a new dimension where everything is too quiet despite the suggestions of life lurking in every corner. The distant crunch of gravel under rubber, the hum of electrical boxes that rise and fall as they approach and pass, the greying light of streetlamps overhead. The desaturated cityscape breathes despite its cold cement countenance.

Seungkwan’s hand hasn’t left Chan’s wrist. Chan is a chastised child and the feeling of admonishment crawls under Chan’s skin with too many legs to count.

Chan spends the walk from the company building to the dorm trying to think of something to say, but he doesn’t know where to start. Seungkwan’s scolding grip is scorching, so much so that it moulds Seungkwan’s fingers to his skin, a groove where he fits so perfectly.

Silence doesn’t really suit Seungkwan; it strips him bare and leaves Chan defenseless to his burning will. It’s the only thing propelling them both forward at this late hour.

About a block away from their dorm entrance, Seungkwan finally speaks up. He keeps his eyes straight ahead, trained on the door in the distance.

“I’m excited to see your progress, though,” he says softly. Soft like the moonlight lingering in the clouds, painting everything a harmless grey. “You’ve really—you’ve really been working hard, so, um, I’m sure it’s great right now.”

An objection springs onto Chan’s tongue, but it loses momentum when it hits the cage of his teeth and he swallows it down.

“I’ll definitely show you tomorrow,” Chan replies. “After… After a good night’s sleep.”

Seungkwan snorts. He fishes his key from his pocket and pulls the door open with the same hand, refusing to let go of Chan’s wrist.

Their point of contact emanates comfortable heat and maybe it’s what Chan needed to allow his fatigue to settle down and coax him to sleep.

Falling into routine is simple. They float up the stairs to their room and tiptoe their way through the front door. Seungkwan finally lets go when Chan stands in front of the bathroom like a dog asking for permission.

Junhui is breathing deeply when Chan returns; he doesn’t seem to experience the same problem as Seungkwan. On the other hand, Seungkwan is curled up with his knees to his chest; the light of his phone reflects dimly on the wall.

Chan closes the door behind him. It clicks faintly and Chan feels it in his bones.

Seungkwan looks up at him and the corners of his lips lift, ghostly in the blue light but present enough to warm Chan’s chest.

Chan mouths ‘goodnight’ to him and it doesn’t take long for the sound of Seungkwan’s breathing to harmonize with Junhui’s.

 

* * *

 

Not much time has passed since their last concert and Soonyoung knows he needs rest; his body buckled under its limitations on stage and he knows fans won’t quickly forget that. But he’s happy to have the pressure of award show performances and their imminent comeback propel him forward, moving without stopping, going, going, going.

It’s his nature. Things flow through him with ease: words, rhythms, notes, beats, movement. They direct him, set an example, and he finds it invaluable information for him to absorb as a leader.

To him, resistance is more exhaustive. Control is a concept too abstract for him to digest and repurpose; he understands it as structure, but it’s not often that he sets the pace himself. Music breathes and he responds; dance is a dialogue, and although he understands his role as a moderator between his members and the music, he also knows he isn’t the one who gives the music life, personality.

So, naturally, he thrives in a group. Today, he’s working closely with Look to tame the thunderous beast that is Getting Closer.

When they pause for a water break, Soonyoung rests his back against the mirror, feels it quickly warm to his body temperature. The air around him settles as the dance group disperses.

His body thrums with the music despite its departure. He feels at ease.

Chan approaches him and Soonyoung’s body opens for the familiar presence with the ease of routine. Soonyoung points his shoulders and knees towards Chan as he joins Soonyoung on the floor.

“Looks like progress is going well,” Chan remarks. His chest is inclined towards Soonyoung, but he hardly slouches, not as much as Soonyoung tends to.

Soonyoung nods and shrugs at the same time. It’s an awkward movement, but both uncertainty and agreement hit him at once.

“It has a strong energy, the choreo I mean, but, like…” Soonyoung trails off and chews the inside of his cheek. “I dunno. We haven’t reached the level I want to hit.”

Breath expands Soonyoung’s chest and Chan waits for him patiently.

“There’s a lot of—it’s ‘breathless, breathless’, a lot of repetition, like, fixation…” Soonyoung feels breathless himself, trying to explain it. “Fixation, definitely. Deep wanting, but, at the same time, hesitation?”

“Desperation?” Chan suggests. “Anxious desperation?”

“Yes and no,” Soonyoung says. “Anxiety and desperation separately, I think. But it’s all like—” Soonyoung brings his fingers together and brings his hand in front of his stomach. He twists his fist. “Visceral?”

Chan makes a long noise of understanding.

“There’s a good mix of physical and internal stuff happening,” Soonyoung continues. “But I guess I also want to express the inside stuff as physically as possible.”

“There is a lot of emphasis on the mind,” Chan comments.

“‘Come into my mind’,” Soonyoung says, just barely singing. He waves his hands in front of his face without thinking.

Chan gives him a half-smile. “Are you beckoning me in like that?” he asks.

Soonyoung snorts. “Come on. Give me some credit here. If I were really trying, you’d know,” he replies.

Chan chuckles and nods. “God forbid I end up on the other end of that.”

Soonyoung pouts. “You really think it’d be that bad?” he asks. He leans his weight on one leg and tilts his head up at Chan. “I’m full of a variety of charms, you know.”

Chan laughs. He also averts his eyes and puts a steadying hand on Soonyoung’s shoulder.

“Save it for the fans, hyung,” he tells Soonyoung.

Grinning, Soonyoung leans back. “I guess I can’t complain if you’re not saying I don’t have charms.”

“Why else would you be an idol?”

“Guess you’re right.”

“I often am.”

Soonyoung swipes at Chan’s arm, but he dodges easily.

“You’re some brat, you know that, right?” Soonyoung says, entirely without malice and full of mirth.

Chan grins back at him. “It’s one of my personal talents, I think,” he replies.

“Come here,” Soonyoung calls, and this time, Chan is too slow to avoid Soonyoung’s hands. Soonyoung throws an arm around Chan’s neck and pulls him down against his chest; the squawk Chan makes is almost as satisfying as his weight against Soonyoung’s frame.

“I’ll walk you through it and you can tell me if you have any ideas about how to portray what I’m thinking of,” Soonyoung tells him. He enjoys the way his voice sounds as it vibrates against Chan’s skin.

“Sounds good to me, hyung.”

Soonyoung is almost tempted to say ‘good boy’, but he opts for ruffling Chan’s hair instead. There are no objections since his head is free of styling products, but Chan does eventually wiggle his way out of Soonyoung’s grip.

They grow up so fast.

When Chan gets to his feet, he offers a hand to Soonyoung. He takes it with ease and lets Chan pull him up, feels Chan’s muscles move under his skin, enjoys the power there.

The choreography team gathers around them when Soonyoung calls for them and they take it from the top.

 

“Okay, there can only be so many ways to show being breathless,” Jeonghan says.

Soonyoung frowns, bordering on a pout, and Chan barks a short laugh.

“I’m pretty sure no one asked, hyung,” Chan replies.

Jeonghan shakes his head and approaches them. He directs the members of Look to the cooler of drinks he’d brought in before offering forward two bottles of some orange sports drink.

“I know it’s the title of the song, but, you know,” Jeonghan carries on anyway. He shrugs once his hands are free. Unfair of him to comment when both Chan and Soonyoung’s mouths are full, but Soonyoung knows all too well that Jeonghan can never play fair.

“They’re gonna get tired of us clutching at our throats,” Jeonghan says.

“They better not,” Soonyoung sighs. “That’s all I’ve got.”

“And exaggerated panting?” Jeonghan replies.

“Throw on some collars and harnesses and stuff and I’m sure no one will object,” Chan says. “Besides, hyung, you can’t tell me that you don’t like the idea of using this sort of BDSM imagery. I know you love that shit.”

Jeonghan gives Chan’s shoulder a shove.

“You don’t know a damn thing about me, kid,” Jeonghan hisses.

“Shut up. You love the way your waist looks when you wear a harness over your shirt.”

Soonyoung twists the cap over the bottle of his drink just to give his hands something to do. Sometimes Chan really is brave.

“Um, did you see the whole thing, hyung?” Soonyoung asks. “I’m always open to suggestions.”

Jeonghan narrows his eyes at Chan for a second before turning and smiling at Soonyoung.

“You know I’m only teasing,” Jeonghan tells him. “And you also know I don’t have the kind of dancer brain you guys do. I trust that whatever comes out as the final product will be great.”

“Wait,” Chan says to no one in particular. “Hyung, come here,” he says to Jeonghan, grabbing his wrist.

Together, they slowly walk through the choreography. They’re a cute pair: Jeonghan is slow to learn steps and Chan is steadfast and patient. It’s ironic to watch, considering that Jeonghan is the second-oldest hyung and Chan is the maknae.

“This part,” Chan says, indicating Jeonghan’s line after Wonwoo’s in the chorus. “I think it would be really dramatic if you put your hand over your eyes.”

“If this is another jab at the BDSM thing, I swear…” Jeonghan grumbles, but he allows Chan to count him in from the beginning of the chorus. Soonyoung jumps in so that he’s not alone in the mirror, and that seems to give Jeonghan confidence when he executes the move. Between the fingers over his face, Jeonghan’s eyes peek out in the mirror.

The music continues in the background as Jeonghan comes to a still.

“Okay, that was gorgeous,” Jeonghan concludes. “Why do you always have to come for me and my dramatic ass?”

Chan laughs and says, “It suits you. Hopefully it’ll still fit in once the choreo’s actually finished.”

“You’re a genius,” Jeonghan tells him. He takes one of Chan’s hands and starts to swing it around.

“It was you who pulled off the move, hyung,” Chan replies, always humble.

Pride swells in Soonyoung’s heart as Jeonghan and Chan continue into a back and forth of playful banter. Chan has really grown up over the years and he’s been recognized for all his hard work; Soonyoung can hardly wait to see how the fans will react to the release of Chan’s personal choreography as well as the official Flower choreography.

It’s been especially satisfying for Soonyoung, being Chan’s mentor of sorts. Of course, they’re both equals as members in the group, but the fact is that Soonyoung is still older than Chan, and therefore acts as a role model for Chan. It’s a role Soonyoung takes very seriously.

And he knows that Chan looks up to him, even after all these years. So Soonyoung will continue to do his best, for Chan’s sake—alongside the group’s, too. But he is soft at heart and can at least admit to enjoying the special attention.

Chan is growing up, and though he might not be Soonyoung’s baby anymore, Soonyoung will always see him in a special light.

“Come on, you gotta get something to eat, kids,” Jeonghan says, finally veering away from his and Chan’s totally non-work related discussion. “Do you want me to take you somewhere? It’s almost dinnertime.”

“Oh, wait, let me drive,” Chan volunteers. “I need practice.”

“That really limits our options, you know,” Jeonghan replies.

“It’ll be better for the car’s mileage.”

Jeonghan snorts and says, “So noble and considerate, seeing as it’s not even your car.”

Chan shrugs. “It’s better for the environment, too,” he adds.

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. He starts to pull Chan towards the door, still holding his hand.

“Come on, hyung,” Chan calls to Soonyoung. He extends a hand towards Soonyoung and meets his eyes. “Let’s just take a short break and we can come back to it with fresh eyes.”

Always thinking about work. Soonyoung can’t help but be a proud leader when his maknae is always putting his best efforts into their work.

“Sounds good to me, Channie,” Soonyoung replies. He takes Chan’s hand and follows him out of the room.

 

* * *

 

[Soonyoung]: my sister started binge-watching unexpected q because of you  
[Soonyoung]: she thinks you’re hilarious and soooo cute  
[Soonyoung]: she says she just wants to squish your cheeks and bring you food   
[Soonyoung]: she won’t even buy me food   
[Soonyoung]: look at you, stealing the hearts of women   
[Seungkwan]: does it count if it’s just your sister?   
[Soonyoung]: ‘just my sister’? no need to be so cruel :(   
[Seungkwan]: sorry, sorry, you’re right   
[Seungkwan]: she’s a lovely lady and i’m flattered that she loves me so   
[Soonyoung]: yeah you better be

Seungkwan honestly _is_ flattered that Soonyoung’s sister is tuning in so faithfully. And his heart is warmed by the fact that Soonyoung has been consistently cheering him on throughout all of his solo promotions.

Sometimes it’s scary, going out there by himself. At least when he’s on camera with his members, he knows they will always react well. Other entertainers might not mesh with him so well and the audiences for these variety shows are different than those who tune in on Vlive. When Soonyoung wishes Seungkwan luck, Seungkwan takes it with him so that he can carry a piece of home as he braves a different sphere of entertainment.

It’s his dream. It’s comforting to know that Soonyoung has his back. Without fail, every morning, Soonyoung would send him a good luck text followed by a bunch of stickers. His usual excessive style, but it’s endearing despite the early hour.

Now that recording for Unexpected Q is over, Seungkwan misses the routine shows of affection. Not that Soonyoung isn’t normally affectionate—in fact, he is definitely one the most verbally loving hyungs—but he definitely feels the lack of activity on his phone in the mornings, the vacancy left behind.

When Seungkwan mentions the feeling in passing to Hansol, he receives some sound advice.

“Why don’t you return the favour?” Hansol suggests. “Maybe you guys can make a habit out of it.”

“Circle jerk?” Seungkwan asks.

“Don’t ruin it,” Hansol sighs. “You know he’s under a lot of stress because of our new song—maybe you can start there.”

So after their last practice before departing for the MAMAs in Hong Kong, Seungkwan singles out Soonyoung with ease. His hyung is lightly yet hastily dabbing at his face with a towel, careful of irritating his skin before a major performance.

“Need help with that?” Seungkwan offers.

Soonyoung doesn’t even look up. “Haha,” he deadpans in reply. He pauses to push his hair out of his face to reach his forehead.

“Here,” Seungkwan says as he holds Soonyoung’s hair for him.

“I’m not a baby, you know,” Soonyoung says. But he doesn’t make any moves to get away.

When he finishes, he folds the towel over his arm and puts his hand on his hip.

“Can I help you?” he asks.

Seungkwan shakes his head. He smooths down Soonyoung’s mop of hair and tries his best to ignore the disgust that springs to life in his stomach when he realizes just how saturated Soonyoung’s hair is.

“I just wanted to say that you’ve done a lot of good work lately, hyung,” Seungkwan tells him. His eyes stay trained on Soonyoung’s hair as he continues to groom him. “You’ve really worked hard on this choreography.”

For a moment, Soonyoung is quiet.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” Soonyoung asks. His voice is low and vibrates gently between their chests. “If you want last minute travel stuff, you’d be better off asking someone who can drive.”

Seungkwan huffs. “Can’t I just compliment you every now and then?” he asks.

Soonyoung stares at him. “Well, I mean, I guess,” he replies, a slow smile creasing his mouth. “It’s just—well, I don’t know. I guess I’m not ready for any pats on the back until after we go out there and show them what we’ve got, you know?”

Seungkwan nods his understanding. “That’s fair, hyung,” he says. He finally finishes with Soonyoung’s hair and gives him a gentle pat on the head. “How about that, then? Is that acceptable?”

Soonyoung rolls his eyes. But he’s smiling.

“Too late to stop you now, I guess,” Soonyoung replies. He takes Seungkwan’s now-sweaty hand and gives it a squeeze. “Thanks,” he says, and his voice is sincere, fluffy and light cotton under Seungkwan’s fingertips.

“I figure you could stand to hear it more often,” Seungkwan says, “that you work hard, I mean. Because you do. And you hardly give yourself the credit you deserve.”

“You’re making me blush, Seungkwannie,” Soonyoung laughs, but Seungkwan won’t be brushed off so easily.

“I’m being serious, hyung,” Seungkwan insists. It sounds kind of like a whine and Soonyoung laughs again.

“You’re saying I’m not? Look at these cheeks!” he exclaims, gesturing to his pink face. Seungkwan could easily blame that on their earlier exercise, but he holds his tongue.

Soonyoung gives Seungkwan’s hand another squeeze before letting go.

“How about this,” Soonyoung starts, “you keep complimenting me so that I can learn how to react to it. Sound like a good deal?”

It’s a logical thing to say, considering that Seungkwan approached Soonyoung with no warning, but the thought makes Seungkwan warm in the stomach. He wouldn’t even know where to start with compliments. He isn’t sure he would know what’s appropriate and what isn’t. That’s sometimes a fine line between coworkers. And even between friends.

“I’ll think about it,” Seungkwan says softly in reply.

“Don’t worry,” Soonyoung tells him, “I’m not holding my breath.”

He gives Seungkwan’s shoulder a firm pat. “Now come on, Seungkwannie. Let’s go get something to eat.”

Soonyoung steps ahead of him and resumes his face patting. Maybe he was being genuine about the blushing thing. Or maybe he really does sweat that much. Seungkwan doesn’t want to think about it, so he quickly catches up with his hyung so they can discuss dinner options.

 

* * *

 

 

The flight to Hong Kong isn’t long. This is their fourth trip to this awards show, but it’s still nerve-wracking every time they go. Maybe they’ve grown accustomed to traveling and maybe even mingling with other artists, but anticipation still seizes their lungs every time they see their names on the nominee list.

Seungkwan and Chan end up as roommates. Junhui claimed the single room since he’s the hyung in the one group of three at home and no one felt particularly inclined to stop him.

Being roommates in Seoul, they fall into routine with ease; Seungkwan knows Chan’s gravity, has felt it with the entirety of his body at times, and despite its strength, its pulling power, Seungkwan finds comfort in it like putting on a favourite sweater. Wrapped in warmth, each fibre moulded to his lines and planes.

It’s natural for Seungkwan to seek out Chan’s company: he often wonders about Chan’s well-being; he often wonders what’s on Chan’s mind; he often wonders about how Chan is just… him. It’s easy for Seungkwan to admire him, seeing as Chan is gifted with many talents and works hard to maintain them, sharpen them.

And maybe Seungkwan thinks about him too often—but it’s okay for close friends to be concerned about each other’s business like this. They barely have a year between them; they’re practically same-age friends.

When he finds the time for it, Seungkwan sometimes craves Chan’s company. Luckily for both of them, Seungkwan hardly ever finds the time for it.

Maybe that makes overseas trips a little dangerous. Sometimes hotel stays become strange lands, alternate universes that might not mean anything when they go home.

Maybe Seungkwan is a little too okay with that.

Chan puts on their roommate playlist on a bluetooth speaker as he unpacks. They’re only there for a few days: they have some press things to do, dress rehearsal, and the actual event. They have a jam-packed schedule, but they arrived after sundown and people are starting to head home, leaving them with a bit of free time.

The members all agreed to cram into Seungcheol and Wonwoo’s room later to eat together, but for now, Seungkwan and Chan are free to relax for a bit.

“Hey,” Chan calls. When Seungkwan looks up, he sees Chan holding up a fist in his direction.

“What, are you already trying to start a fight?” Seungkwan asks hotly.

Chan barks a laugh. “No, no,” he replies, “this is just the set of towels you asked me to bring for you since you insist on overpacking whenever we leave Seoul.”

He whips them across the room and almost gets Seungkwan right in the head. Ducking probably a second too late, Seungkwan sets his weight against his bed and glowers at his roommate.

“This looks like a fight to me!” Seungkwan cries.

“I think that would require that you actually have a fighting chance against me,” Chan replies. He turns back to his luggage and continues to organize his belongings.

His words leave Seungkwan at a crossroads of sorts, staring at two options: leave Chan be or sneak attack. He hesitates for only a second.

The hotel bed squeaks when Seungkwan leaps over it. The next one groans when Seungkwan lands ass-first on it.

Chan looks over his shoulder to investigate the sound, but Seungkwan is already hooking his arms around around Chan's chest and dragging him onto the bed.

Seungkwan and Chan play fight all the time. Junhui always laughs and calls it kids being kids; Hansol never wants to take part in it. Seungcheol used to do it a lot, back when he was their age. But then, and even now, Seungkwan had been too aware of their age difference to fight back.

But with Chan, it’s different. It’s just another part of their routine. One of Chan’s ways of getting Seungkwan to exercise with him. One of their ways to let out some steam. One of their ways to bond, in a weird way.

They’re boys and naturally this is what boys do.

Their wrestling mostly consists of twisting arms or pinning each other down. Chan, despite his shorter stature, is heavier than Seungkwan and often claims victory by sitting on Seungkwan’s chest.

After those losses, Seungkwan often finds himself unable to feel disappointment. Most of the time, he forgets why they were fighting in the first place, breathless on his back.

This time, Seungkwan finds himself climbing on top. After pulling Chan onto the bed, he holds Chan by the arms and tries to use them to steady his weight. His world tumbles on itself as he tries to roll over.

Chan makes a startled sound that quickly deflates into a wheeze. It’s coloured with mirth, his usual bouncy delight at being challenged by Seungkwan. In the beginning, his amusement had been infuriating, but now it only encourages Seungkwan to continue, to throw all his might into it.

Just as Seungkwan finishes mounting Chan, Chan sucks in a breath and pushes all his weight onto one of his bent legs. It matches Seungkwan’s body weight and he feels himself topple.

“Not this time, Lee Chan!” Seungkwan gasps. He tries to catch his wobbling weight on both legs, spreading them out over Chan’s hips. His knees dig into the bedspread.

When Seungkwan moves to balance his weight on his hands as well, Chan catches his wrists, anticipating the move. Although Chan may be on the bottom, it provides him with a better vantage point.

Most of Seungkwan’s weight is supported by his knees. His head is suspended between his shoulders, arms lifted by Chan’s.

Chan grins up at him. As if to ask ‘what now?’

Seungkwan puts his weight on his arms instead. As soon as he attempts it and feels the resistance under him, he knows it’s a lost cause, but it’s the only option he has left. At least he’s still on top.

Again, Seungkwan’s horizon turns on its head as Chan lets go of his wrists. Seungkwan barely has the mind to catch his weight on his hands before it’s shoved onto his back.

Chan’s hands dig into the sheets next to Seungkwan’s ears. Seungkwan’s legs frame Chan’s hips on both sides, resting against them, suddenly relieved of their burden.

“I don’t think today’s your day,” Chan tells him. His breath is hot against Seungkwan’s neck. “But the surprise attack almost got me for a second there.”

Seungkwan inhales and it’s a struggle, his chest boxed in by Chan’s. But when he opens his mouth to speak, something vibrates violently beyond their heads.

Chan jumps in his skin and Seungkwan feels it down to the pit of his guts. Maybe even lower. A shiver rolls through him nonetheless.

“Jesus christ,” Chan mutters, righting his weight. The minute shifting is monumental to Seungkwan, lying helpless under Chan, and his lungs increase their efforts to take in air.

His heart beats wildly in his chest. Wholly thrilled.

“I think it’s yours, hyung,” Chan tells him, and when he tacks on the honorific onto his sentence, Seungkwan is dropped a little too abruptly back into reality.

The feeling is driven home when cold air replaces Chan’s body weight over his chest. Seungkwan sits up too quickly and swims through his blurry senses to grab his phone.

“Seungcheol’s asking what we want to eat,” Seungkwan states. “They’re ordering the food now. Oh, they sent me a screenshot of the menu.”

“Show me,” Chan asks. He leans his weight onto his hands and knees and inclines his head towards Seungkwan’s phone.

Seungkwan’s heart has yet to calm down. Seungkwan manages to avoid looking Chan in the eyes as he directs his phone towards Chan’s face.

Chan hums as he studies the image. He looks up at Seungkwan, his eyes reflecting the blue light of Seungkwan’s phone and looking impossibly big, and asks, “Aren’t you going to look at the menu, too?”

“Oh,” Seungkwan says. He swallows a wad of spit sitting on the back of his tongue. “Right, yeah. I should do that, shouldn’t I?”

Chan laughs and leans closer to Seungkwan so he doesn’t have to hold his phone too far.

Later, when the two of them show up at Seungcheol’s room, Jihoon makes eye contact with Seungkwan and lifts an eyebrow.

“You doing okay, kiddo?” he asks. “You look kinda flushed.”

“It’s nothing,” Seungkwan replies too quickly.

Chan is distracted by something Minghao has to show him from amongst their newly acquired hotel merchandise. Seungkwan feels the pull of Chan’s gravity begin to suck him in; with some effort, he resists, and finds comfort at Seokmin’s familiar, sturdy side.

He can find time to give into the weight of attraction later.


	2. my heart is thrilled by the still of your hand

As much as he hates to admit it, Chan is only human and he needs to rest sometimes. Time doesn’t stop moving and therefore Chan finds no excuse to stop moving either.

His teammates in the Performance Unit often share the sentiment, but they also know they need to proceed with caution after a certain point. Chan trusts their judgment, but it’s hard, sometimes, to come to terms with his limits.

“Don’t pout, kiddo,” Soonyoung says to him. He offers Chan’s water bottle forward. “We can get back to it tomorrow.”

Chan rakes a hand through his hair before accepting the water bottle. It’s weird, sometimes, for someone else to be so aware of his limits as well. It almost hurts, but pride isn’t very becoming and Chan knows better than to go on the defense.

“Junhui and I are gonna go back to the dorm and have dinner,” Minghao says, pulling on his coat. “Come join us?”

Chan sits heavily in the middle of the floor.

“Not hungry,” he replies. “Thanks, though.”

Minghao frowns, but he nods. “Alright,” he says. “Get something to eat later, okay?” He turns to Soonyoung. “Hyung?”

Soonyoung shrugs. “I’m not hungry either,” he replies. “But if you have any leftovers, let me know.”

Junhui comes by and pulls at Soonyoung’s cheek. “You just don’t want to cook, eh?” he asks. “If you’re not gonna come help, then we’re having spicy food.”

Soonyoung’s face crinkles. “Okay, count me out, then,” he says.

Junhui laughs and gives Soonyoung a brief hug before stepping next to Minghao’s side. “See you at home, then!” he calls over his shoulder.

When they disappear, Soonyoung collapses onto his back. He stares up at the ceiling, squinting at the LED strips above them.

“I feel like eating out,” Soonyoung says. “I’ll cover you if you come with me.”

Chan snorts. “Cover me or treat me? Those are two very different things, you know.”

Soonyoung heaves an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, your hyung will treat you, Channie,” Soonyoung acquieses. “But that means I get to pick where we’re going.”

Chan observes Soonyoung. His eyes wander over his frame, marking off checkpoints as they pass by familiar landmarks: the peak of his shoes, the taper of his ankles, his knobbly knees, the rectangular strip of his pelvis, the rising and falling crest of his chest, his prominent adam’s apple, his soft cheeks, his pointed eyes.

Everything about being with Soonyoung is familiar. Soothing. Comfortable like asking for free food without remorse. Easy like reading his eyes in the mirror and following his footsteps, both figuratively and literally.

“I’m not hungry now, though,” Chan says. Soonyoung doesn’t rouse at the sound of his voice. “Maybe we can get some more practice in until I feel like eating?”

Soonyoung lifts his head to look at Chan. It’s too easy for Soonyoung to remind Chan of their age difference, of their differing positions on an unsaid hierarchy—or maybe Chan’s too used to deferring, to the point where he knows a certain look from his hyung means he said something he shouldn’t have.

“We’re done for today, Chan,” Soonyoung tells him. “Can’t we just hang out? Can’t I spend my time with my favourite dongsaeng?”

Chan scoffs. “Listen, you don’t have to convince me to come with you to free dinner. But if we’re done here, then let’s get out already,” he replies.

Soonyoung rises and flops over next to Chan’s thigh. He rests his chin there and looks up at Chan.

“Want to go to karaoke?” he asks. “Seungkwan’s always talking about this coin karaoke place he loves. It’s near this noodle place I’ve been wanting to go to.”

“Is this your way of asking me to go on Vlive with you or something?” Chan asks.

Soonyoung whines and rolls onto his back. He buries part of his face in Chan’s shirt and says, “Can’t I just hang out with my favourite dongsaeng?”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I swear I just want to relax and do something fun. I haven’t gone to karaoke in so long  _ without _ any cameras nearby. Let’s sing ballads and have beer.”

Whining and cuddling Chan like this, Soonyoung looks so… cute. Sometimes Chan can’t believe how easily this comes to Soonyoung. Or how easily Chan accepts it, finds it endearing.

Chan smiles. It’s a relief that Soonyoung isn’t looking at him, but even if Soonyoung were to catch the affectionate look on Chan’s face, Chan doesn’t think he’d mind so much.

“Alright, hyung. As long as it’s your treat.”

Soonyoung groans and nods and curls in closer to Chan’s stomach.

“Okay, okay. Nap time first.”

“Hyung!”

They depart after ten minutes of half-hearted arguing about appropriate sleeping times and places.

 

“Hey… Do you hear that?” Soonyoung asks as they wait for someone to come to the front desk of the karaoke place.

“Hear what?” Chan replies.

Soonyoung leans his head towards a hallway leading away from the foyer. “Sounds familiar,” he says. “Just listen.”

Chan strains to hear what Soonyoung hears.

After a while, Chan’s eyes widen. “You don’t think that’s…?” he asks.

Before Soonyoung can answer him, someone arrives at the front desk and greets them.

“For two?” the employee asks.

“Um, actually,” Soonyoung says, finally looking away from the hallway, “I was just wondering—is there a guy who came here alone? Around my height, blond, round cheeks? You might have seen him on TV? He’s an idol—”

The employee frowns and says, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about. We get idols here sometimes, sure, but we don’t ask for names or anything.”

Soonyoung frowns back. “Okay,” he says. “Sorry. It just sounded a lot like Boo Seungkwan is all. And we’re his friends. We’re in Seventeen, too.”

Soonyoung lowers his face mask a little. His eyes usually give away his identity, but his lips and cheeks fill in the rest of the picture.

The employee relaxes. “Oh, I see. Alright. He’s in room 2, if you wanted to join him,” they say.

Soonyoung grins and nods in thanks. The employee tells them the rate per song before writing something down in a book. Soonyoung is already bounding away before the employee finishes talking.

“Seungkwan!” Soonyoung calls as he throws open the door.

The silky, honey-sweet voice that had just started to spill into the hall comes to an abrupt stop. The tinny karaoke instrumentals carry on a now-lonely tune.

“H-Hyung?” Seungkwan gasps.

“Don’t mind us,” Soonyoung says. Chan reaches for Soonyoung’s sleeve instinctively and lets himself be pulled into the room. When he shuts the door, the air stills and thickens at an alarming rate.

Seungkwan squints at Soonyoung for a second before turning back to the screen. He resumes singing after a bit of reading along but there isn’t much left to sing.

The song ends and Seungkwan lowers his microphone. He turns to look at the two intruders, pink in the face and brow furrowed. Chan’s heart rate picks up.

“What are you two doing here?” Seungkwan asks. He’s calm. Chan’s heart races nonetheless.

Soonyoung grins. He’s stretched out on the couch at the back of the room, both arms slung over the top of the couch. Chan sits close to Soonyoung’s side; there’s a ghost of a smile on lips, mirth and anticipation hot in his chest.

“What a coincidence, right?” Soonyoung replies. “We finished with practice for the night so I wanted to relax somewhere. I remembered you mentioned this place before so I thought why not? Plus, there’s this restaurant nearby that I wanted to try. You’re welcome to come with us later.”

“It’s his treat,” Chan says.

Soonyoung pouts. “Yes, well,” he says, “you didn’t have to tell him right away.”

Seungkwan puts a hand on his hip. “Well, us kids have to look after each other, right?” Seungkwan asks. He winks at Chan. 

“I’m not Jihoon,” Soonyoung sighs. “I’m not made of money nor am I ready to pay for everyone just because I want company while I eat.”

“Lucky it’s just us two, then,” Seungkwan says. The smile on his face is sweet and shines like silver, bites like steel.

Soonyoung sighs, but there’s fondness on his breath.

“Lucky for you two that I like you so much,” he replies.

Chan lays his head on Soonyoung’s shoulder. With a low growl, Soonyoung hooks an arm around Chan’s neck and ruffles his hair.

“You’re a troublemaker, you know that?” Soonyoung huffs.

“You’re the one who decided to walk in on Seungkwan’s private karaoke session,” Chan says. “You knew there had to be consequences.”

“You’re the one who brought up dinner!”

“Hey, it was a team effort,” Seungkwan butts in. He sits on Chan’s other side, sandwiching him, and leans over Chan’s lap to put his hands on Soonyoung’s knee.

Seungkwan bats his eyelashes up at Soonyoung. His weight is comfortable against Chan’s chest and Soonyoung’s thigh is solid against Chan’s. 

“You’re gonna take responsibility for it, huh?” Soonyoung asks.

“Not monetarily,” Seungkwan replies.

Soonyoung shakes his head. 

“Alright,” he says. He puts a hand over Seungkwan’s. “It's fine. I did say I’d treat. But you two should show some mercy to your hyung.”

Chan nuzzles his head into the crook of Soonyoung’s neck. He feels Soonyoung's cheek round against the top of his head in a smile. The arm around Chan’s shoulders gives him a warm squeeze, a welcome contrast to the earlier wrangling.

“Put on a show for me,” Soonyoung says. “Sing me a duet or something. Maybe dance a little.”

“A low price for free food,” Seungkwan comments. “No objections from me, hyung.”

“If you guys are good, I might even be persuaded to get you dessert,” Soonyoung says.

Grinning, Chan loops both his arms around Soonyoung’s waist and squeezes him. Soonyoung hugs him back and presses his cheek against the top of his head again.

When Chan looks up, he sees Seungkwan extending a hand towards him. He takes it, enjoys the warmth and fit of Seungkwan’s hand against his. He feels Soonyoung’s eyes follow him as he gets to his feet and it’s a curious sensation, weight from both sides anchoring him, boxing him in.

He could get used to it. Maybe.

“Do something sexy,” Soonyoung tells them.

Seungkwan looks up from leafing through the song catalogue.

“What is your obsession with trying to make things ‘sexy’?” Seungkwan asks. There are very exaggerated air quotes.

“There’s nothing sexy about karaoke,” Chan states.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Soonyoung retorts. Chan isn’t sure to whom he’s speaking. “There’s plenty sexy about being serenaded. You’ve got natural charm; enough to earn a free meal, maybe.”

From the corner of his eye, Chan can see Seungkwan’s face colour. 

“I think my limit for sexy is just, like, an R&B song,” Seungkwan mutters.

“Oh!” Soonyoung interjects. He claps his hands together. “Do  _ If I. _ Throw in the hip stuff. That’ll be great.”

“Is this priming us for Caratland or something?” Chan asks, sighing. But he flips through the catalogue until he finds their group’s name.

“We should do a song that’s not ours,” Seungkwan complains. He snatches the catalogue out of Chan’s hands and opens it to a different page. “I just thought of the perfect thing.”

When Chan sees the song Seungkwan’s finger lands on, he has to protest.

“Hyung,” he starts, “I don’t know that song.”

“What! You don’t know AOA’s ‘Miniskirt’? Men were drooling over that MV for ages!”

From the other side of the room, Soonyoung sings the “oooohh” from the song’s chorus. 

“The ass grabbing from that MV was great,” Soonyoung says, giving a thumbs up. 

Chan grimaces. “It’s just not the same without the actual skirts and heels, you know,” he sighs. He hopes that's a good enough excuse to turn down the song; it's a little too high-pitched for his range.

“Fine, fine,” Seungkwan acquiesces, already turning to another page. 

“Save it for another time,” Soonyoung suggests with a wink. “Give yourself time to prepare outfits and choreography.”

Chan scowls at both Soonyoung and the embarrassment that burns in his cheeks at the thought of dressing up—especially for Soonyoung. Especially to put on a show. A joint show with Seungkwan, at that.

“Here,” Seungkwan says, turning the book towards Chan. “You have to know this one. I played it all the time at home when it came out.”

Seungkwan’s suggested song doesn’t evoke such an explicit image as the AOA song, and he is right: Chan knows this song. He knows it well. He likes the song quite a bit, actually.

When Chan doesn’t object, Seungkwan smiles to himself and puts the code into the machine. He feeds it some coins and it comes back to life. 

Soonyoung sits forward, elbows balanced on his knees. He smiles when Chan makes eye contact with him and it’s just enough to stop Chan from looking away immediately. 

It’s just free food. It’s just karaoke between friends. It’s not a big deal. But maybe Chan still isn’t over the idea of putting on a miniskirt and heels and asking Soonyoung to pay attention to him; maybe he’s flustered at the thought of Seungkwan doing the same, flaunting his thighs and trying in earnest to seduce Soonyoung.

It’s ridiculous. It’s all just a joke. Right?

Chan misses the opening line, so Seungkwan takes it instead. It earns him an elbow to the ribs.

Soonyoung’s eyes widen when he recognizes the song. 

“The Wonder Girls! Of course!” Soonyoung exclaims. He mimes playing a guitar, then a bass, then a keyboard, and, lastly, drums. “The band concept really suited them.”

Soonyoung does a bit of air guitar and headbangs, and Chan can’t help but laugh. He remembers not to laugh into the microphone lest Seungkwan becomes more generous with the elbow jabs.

It’s surprisingly easy to go back and forth with Seungkwan, switching when a different member of the Wonder Girls starts to sing. Seungkwan gets very enthusiastic when the rap comes up and this time, Chan laughs into the microphone, doubling over. Soonyoung joins him and together their laughter shakes the room.

When the song comes to a close, Soonyoung gets to his feet and claps and cheers. Chan blushes, but he grins and flashes a V sign.

“Sensual, definitely, but I'm not so sure about sexy,” Soonyoung says.

Seungkwan reaches over to slap Soonyoung’s shoulder and exclaims, “Don’t tell me you’re reconsidering after all we did for you!”

“You make it sound like you saved my life or something.”

“Didn’t we though?” Seungkwan says, grinning. He bumps Chan’s elbow and gives him a sideways glance. “We saved him from a life of despair from not having heard our soulful rendition of the Wonder Girls’s  _ I Feel You _ . Salvation through music.”

Chan exchanges a look with Soonyoung. 

“He’s right,” Chan tells him. Soonyoung gawks for just a second before shutting his mouth and rolling his eyes. “Hey, hear me out,” Chan continues. “You’d be living a different life without having heard us—hell, do you have any idea how many people would be dying to hear what you just heard?”

“You’re really taking advantage of our minor celebrity status for this,” Soonyoung retorts.

“And you’re really taking advantage of us for a single meal!” Seungkwan cries.

Despite the resistance, Soonyoung grins. “Okay,” he acquiesces, “maybe I am. But you two are so cute when you argue.”

Again, Chan feels his cheeks warm. He certainly feels taken advantage of, standing between his two hyungs with free food and his pride on the line. It’s a lot. At the same time, it’s not, but where’s the fun in taking away the high stakes?

There’s always something thrilling about being caught in his hyungs’ grasp. Maybe that’s why Chan so naturally gravitates towards them. It certainly pulls him out of the black hole of his own head, something that can be indescribably crushing—it makes him thankful, all of a sudden, to be here instead of wearing off the soles of his shoes at the practice studio.

There’s always tomorrow. For now, Chan needs to be grateful to be here, suspended by the gravity of two powerful forces.

“God,” Seungkwan mutters, also red in the face. He plops onto the couch and bumps Soonyoung with his hip. “I’m done. It’s your turn to get up there. I need a break.”

Soonyoung laughs, a breathless note on the bell chimes that compose the sound, and takes up the microphone Seungkwan abandoned.

“Alright, alright.” Soonyoung turns to Chan, eyes alight with amusement, shining under the LEDs of the closed off, closet-sized karaoke room. “Come on, Channie,” he calls, “let’s do something together. Let’s do a ballad.”

And Chan nods, unable to refuse him, caught in his spell and uninterested in escape.

 

* * *

 

The MAMAs are only one of several award shows they attend. There are also end-of-year shows in which they have to participate, as well. Soonyoung is always grateful for a chance to perform: every performance is a test of skill as well as a measure of skill for future reference.

They’ve already finished cleaning up their performance plans for most of the year-end shows; of course, these things are always open to change until the performance date itself, but they also have to stay on schedule so they have time to practice for the next stage.

As December progresses, they come up with loose plans for the Seoul music awards. It’s one of the bigger award shows and it’s also only days before their next comeback. The performance needs to be an impressive one.

“Maybe for a change of pace,” one of their choreographers suggests, “we have members outside of the performance team do the introduction?”

There are nods all around the table. 

“I’d like to join,” Wonwoo volunteers. He lifts a hand up to his shoulder, a small and quiet gesture that is only slightly helpful in adding to his visibility. “I’ve been working a lot on my dancing recently and I’d like a chance for the fans to see it.”

Soonyoung nods his enthusiastic agreement. He’d been there for most of the development.

“I’m sure the fans will still be expecting Performance Unit members to participate, though,” says another one of the choreographers. “Should we have Soonyoung and Chan on the lineup?”

Soonyoung leans his head forward to try and catch the table’s attention. “I’d like to skip out on this one,” he states. “If that’s okay. I get the spotlight too often when it comes to dance performances and I know that the other members spend just as much time practicing as me.”

The other choreographers exchange glances.

“Then, Minghao,” one calls, “would you like to participate as well?”

Minghao nods. “I’m always grateful for a chance to perform,” he says.

The rest of the lineup is finalized with Seungkwan and Hansol participating with Chan, Minghao, and Wonwoo.

“I leave myself in your responsible and talented hands,” Seungkwan says to Soonyoung with a wink when they meet up to practice for the first time.

Wonwoo snorts. “Come on, Seungkwan-ah; rely on me instead. I’m a capable hyung, too,” he says.

Seungkwan turns to him and bows deeply. “I apologize, hyung-nim. Let me acknowledge you, too.”

Hansol and Minghao giggle behind them. Chan is busy listening to their chosen music with headphones on.

“Come on, kids,” Soonyoung says, rolling his eyes. “No time for playing around. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Although Soonyoung remains part of the choreography team, he lets Chan take the reins on this one. His signature intricate hand gestures show up in no time, but the rest of the team catch on easily. Their concentration and dedication to the task is evident from the get-go; Soonyoung is proud.

But the feeling is slightly bittersweet: Soonyoung is sure that, with enough practice like this, his dongsaengs will eventually surpass him. They won’t need him to lead the way, soon enough. They won’t depend on him like they do now. After all, Minghao is just as capable. Chan is just as capable. And if they really put their minds to it, he’s sure Seungkwan, Hansol, or Wonwoo could direct the others just like Soonyoung can.

Soonyoung just works hard. Talent can only bring so much in an industry like theirs; it needs to be driven forward with hard work, and Soonyoung knows the others can bring just as much to the table as he can. It doesn’t take much to make a trend, and god only knows how long a trend can last. Standing out takes hard work as much as it takes luck; sometimes, you can only throw your work at the wall until it sticks, and continuously throwing idea after idea is tiring.

Soonyoung reminds himself that this is only speculation and the future is intangible. It is unknown and all guesses are shots in the dark.

He pushes the thought, covered in spines that prick his fingers, to the back of his mind. Walks back to the present moment. Immerses himself in the heavy bass that rumbles through the floor, underlined with the rhythmic footsteps of the dancers before him.

When practice finally comes to an end, Soonyoung finds he isn’t exactly tired. Dancing is both a mental and physical exercise, especially in the early stages when the music and the moves are not so closely intertwined as the end piece.

So when Seungkwan comes to him for a favour, extra help if Soonyoung can read Seungkwan’s hesitant yet driven stance correctly, Soonyoung agrees immediately.

“It’s just,” Seungkwan starts, already trying to explain even though Soonyoung doesn’t ask and didn’t plan to, “I think—I’m nervous about keeping up with everyone else. I’m not exactly the strongest dancer, so, you know—”

“Seungkwannie,” Soonyoung interrupts him, “it’s okay.” He pauses. “You’re really nervous about keeping up with Wonwoo?”

An amused snort breaches the guarded expression on Seungkwan’s face. “Well, when you put it that way,” he says vaguely. “Maybe ‘keeping up’ isn’t the best way to put it—but he is especially handsome when he concentrates on dancing, and that’s still something to compete with.”

Soonyoung takes a step closer into Seungkwan’s space. At once, Seungkwan opens up to him and closes off his expression. It’s tight, practiced, but not with much conviction. Seungkwan’s natural inclination is always to share, after all. Habits of a maknae.

“Seungkwan,” Soonyoung calls, and Seungkwan’s name on Soonyoung’s tongue coaxes some of the tension out of Seungkwan’s face. “It’s not a competition, you know. In fact, it’s the opposite: it’s a showcase.”

“Is that really the opposite of a competition?” Seungkwan asks. Quick to strike, as always.

Soonyoung tries not to roll his eyes and fails. “Semantics. What I’m trying to say is that you guys all have different talents. You guys each bring something unique to the table. I’ll help you if you want the extra practice, but the end goal isn’t to be better than your own teammates.”

For a while, Seungkwan is quiet.

“I know that,” he says softly. He looks over at the corner of the room, fidgets with something in his pocket. “Obviously.”

Soonyoung knows Seungkwan knows. Seungkwan isn’t an idiot and the group’s teamwork is one of their strong points.

“I just,” Seungkwan says and fails to explain himself when it actually benefits himself this time. “I just. You know what I mean, right?”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung replies. He slaps a hand to Seungkwan’s shoulder and grins when Seungkwan stumbles forwards from the impact. “Come on. Let’s get to it, then. What do you need help with?”

 

“I’ll buy you snacks,” Seungkwan offers.

If Soonyoung wasn’t tired before, he sure is now. But it’s satisfying rather than wearying. 

“What?” Soonyoung asks. It’s taking him some level of concentration to zip up his jacket.

“I said,” Seungkwan says with a sigh that wracks his entire chest, “I’ll buy you snacks.”

Soonyoung turns and grins at his dongsaeng. “Oh yeah?” he asks. “What’s on the menu?”

Seungkwan feigns a flinch away from Soonyoung. “Hyung, please,” he says, “save the predatory look for the food.” He spares some time to flash Soonyoung a grin before adding, “The convenience store down the street, duh. Ramyun, kimbap, ice cream, you name it. You want it, it’s yours.”

Soonyoung tries to school his expression into something neutral, but his attempts crumble at the delighted smile on Seungkwan’s face that grows as he lists off the food.

“It’s a bit cold for ice cream, isn’t it?” Soonyoung asks.

“Never stopped you before.”

“Good point.”

Soonyoung hums and haws as they exit the building.

“But what about that diet?” Soonyoung asks.

“What diet?” Seungkwan replies. Usually, Seungkwan reacts to mentions of his diet defensively. Soonyoung tries to navigate this carefully.

“You’re not gonna eat, too?” Soonyoung replies.

For a moment, all that shakes the air is the sound of gravel crunching under their feet.

“It’s fine,” Seungkwan says simply.

“We don’t have to go,” Soonyoung replies. He does his best to be gentle without sounding pitying. That’s not his interpretation to make, in the end, but he tries his best to bridge the gap of communication.

“It’s  _ fine,” _ Seungkwan insists.

They enter the convenience store without another word. The hum of the heating, the fridges, the vending machines surrounds him and envelops him in noise that is gentle yet submersive. It feels like stepping into a sphere of water.

His feet drag through the aisles as he considers his choices.

“They have those chips that you like,” Seungkwan comments from another aisle. His voice cuts cleanly through the white noise, though if he’s shouting or Soonyoung knows to search for his voice, Soonyoung doesn’t know.

Soonyoung hums in response and continues scanning the shelves.

In the end, he picks out a pack of individually wrapped cookies. A Korean equivalent of a snack they tried in Japan and discovered a taste for.

“Alright, hyung,” Seungkwan says, taking the pack. He brings it to the counter and snaps the attendant out of a waking slumber.

When they emerge from the store’s viscous environment, Soonyoung tears into the cookies. He counts them and pulls out half of them before offering them to Seungkwan.

“What’s this?” Seungkwan asks.

“Your half,” Soonyoung replies simply. He tucks the open package into his pocket and wiggles a cookie out from its plastic wrap.

“Hyung,” Seungkwan says. He sounds tired.

Soonyoung doesn’t say anything. His ears fill with crisp crunching, gravel giving way underfoot.

It takes only a few steps for Seungkwan to catch up with Soonyoung. He silently unwraps a cookie and together they make their way back to the dorm, leaving a trail of crumbs in their wake.

As Seungkwan goes through his keys outside their front door, Soonyoung lets his eyes rove over Seungkwan’s face. The hallway lights are nothing compared to the studio lights under which he often finds Seungkwan, and the dim colours that compose Seungkwan’s face paint him into a different creature.

Softer, younger. Tired. Raw strokes of pigment. Human.

The thoughts roll unbidden through Soonyoung’s head and come to a stop when Seungkwan’s key pushes the lock open.

“Hey,” Soonyoung interrupts him.

Seungkwan turns to him. Shadows shift across his face and another creature emerges forth, looking over at Soonyoung with a quizzical expression.

“You got a little something here,” Soonyoung says. He picks off part of a cluster of crumbs gathered in the corner of Seungkwan’s mouth.

Seungkwan makes a quiet noise of complaint and swats Soonyoung’s hand away.

“Couldn’t this wait until we were inside? The door’s heavy,” he mumbles in complaint. 

Soonyoung steps in past him, snickering, catching Seungkwan wiping at his face as he holds the door open for his hyung.

Soonyoung tosses the empty package of cookies into the garbage before wishing Seungkwan goodnight.

 

 

* * *

 

The boys take two days off for Christmas and Christmas Eve. But Chan hears the call from the practice room even if it’s not an official one.

He’s packing his sneakers into a bag when Seungkwan comes up from behind him and loops his arms around Chan’s waist.

“Nope,” is all Seungkwan says, walking backwards. His arms reach their full extension and Chan doesn’t budge.

“What do you mean, ‘nope’?” Chan asks, deadpan.

“Nope,” Seungkwan repeats.

Seungkwan shuffles back to his starting position and tries again, pulling Chan in earnest now.

He shows a surprising display of strength and Chan almost drops his stuff on the floor. He just manages to toss his bag and shoes back onto his bed before both he and Seungkwan almost topple to the floor.

Chan opens his mouth to speak but Seungkwan beats him to it.

“It’s holiday time, Channie,” Seungkwan says. He continues to walk backwards once he rights his balance. “You’re  _ not _ going to go practice and that’s final.”

Chan scoffs. “You’re not my mom,” he retorts. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“No, but I am your hyung, and if you respected me then you would do as I say.”

“Too bad I don’t respect you.”

Seungkwan makes an indignant noise. Next, Chan feels pressure against his diaphragm that winds him and suddenly he’s on his back.

He’s not in the mood to fight. That’s why he doesn’t resist when Seungkwan clambers over him and sits just above his pelvis. Besides, he’s learned that Seungkwan is incredibly easy to read when he’s on top.

Chan chalks it up to his suspicion that Seungkwan really prefers to be on the bottom.

Sure, Chan lets his mouth run a little loosely around Seungkwan; most of the time, it’s not really a problem. Seungkwan doesn’t hide the fact that he likes to fight. But the creases in his forehead tell Chan that he’s not in the mood to fight, either.

“Well, you should,” Seungkwan mutters. “And you should respect yourself more, too. You need to take time off, Chan. You need to rest.”

Chan sighs. Well, as much as he can sigh with his lungs underneath Seungkwan’s thighs.

“Do you need to manhandle me every time you have something to say to me?” Chan asks. It’s mostly a joke. Chan knows that Seungkwan would back off if Chan asked him to.

“I do, since it seems to be the most effective way of getting you to listen to me,” Seungkwan replies, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

“I’m starting to think it’s just your preference by now.”

“What can I say, I like things fast and I like things simple. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, right?”

Despite his flippant tone, Seungkwan blushes just enough to be visible under the ceiling light. His ears are pink and Chan knows it’s not just the light shining through the cartilage. 

“Right,” Chan says, a smirk of his own on his face.

Seungkwan squints down at him.

“What,” Seungkwan starts, “is there something funny about what I said?”

Chan’s face breaks out into a grin.

“No,” Chan replies. “Just your usual face.”

Seungkwan’s expression contorts into a glare. Chan keeps grinning.

“Though I’m also wondering why you’re still sitting on me,” Chan adds.

Seungkwan lifts a brow. “Well, do you plan on going to the practice room or not?” he asks.

“Do I look like I’m in any position to do that?” Chan huffs.

Seungkwan grins.

“So why should I move?” Seungkwan replies.

Chan rolls his eyes. “I’m starting to wonder which of us is really the hyung here,” he comments.

“I could pull out my birth certificate if you want,” Seungkwan offers.

“No need to pull out anything,” Chan replies. The flush returns to Seungkwan’s face. “Hyung,” Chan adds, an intentional afterthought.

Seungkwan huffs and finally dismounts Chan’s chest.

Chan is content to lie on his back and it doesn’t take long for Seungkwan to join him. Shoulder to shoulder, they stare up at the ceiling, the popcorn indents above an incomprehensible mural that occupies them all the same.

“I had no other plans for this afternoon,” Chan says to the ceiling. “My parents are picking me up for dinner at five and now I’ve got three hours to kill, more or less.”

“If you wanted to hang out with me, all you need to do is say so, Channie,” Seungkwan tells him sweetly.

Chan sighs. “If you’re paying, then I’m all yours,” he says.

“Consider it a Christmas gift, then.”

 

They end up staying at home. After some discussion, they decided that most places would be too busy or too far to make a trip outside worth the effort of moving.

“We can get some food delivered at least,” Seungkwan says as they settle onto the couch. “Make someone else make the trip instead of us.”

“At least they’re getting paid for it,” Chan replies with a shrug.

They build a nest of blankets. The heating in the room isn’t bad by any means, but it makes for a cozy roost for the afternoon.

Seungkwan claims one side of the couch and Chan decides to use him as an armrest. Seungkwan’s side is warm and Chan finds he slots perfectly in the dip of Seungkwan’s waist.

Seungkwan shifts to accommodate Chan’s weight, but he doesn’t say a word. If anything, the adjustments allow them to fit more closely together.

For a while, the room is quiet save for the occasional hiccup of the fridge or the radiator.

“Look,” Seungkwan says, thrusting his phone forward, “this place has a ton of holiday themed drinks. Wouldn’t that be cute?”

“The tree-themed cupcakes are cute,” Chan agrees. He nestles his chin against the crook of Seungkwan’s shoulder so Seungkwan won’t have to hold his phone out so far.

When Chan comes closer, Seungkwan adjusts his grip and shows Chan the rest of the Christmas menu.

“I think it would certainly light up the place,” Seungkwan comments. “We didn’t decorate this year.”

“No time this year,” Chan replies quietly. It was easier in their old dorm where they were in closer quarters and had less space to work on; it was easier when they weren’t on such tight performance schedules for the end of year shows.

“Do you think,” Seungkwan starts, pausing to swallow and to wet his lips, “you know—mistletoe? Do you think people use that as a serious decoration?”

“To be honest, I don’t know what the difference between mistletoe and holly is,” Chan admits. “They both have berries, but I don’t know which is which.”

Seungkwan sighs. His face isn’t completely in Chan’s view, but Chan can tell Seungkwan rolls his eyes. 

“Holly is the red one and mistletoe is the white one. Anyway,” he continues, “what do you think—isn’t that a weird concept, to force people to kiss because of some plant?”

“It’s definitely a good romcom plot device.” Chan shrugs. “I don’t know—I’m sure only people who are already romantically involved use it as decoration. Or something. I bet most people don’t know the difference between it and holly.”

Seungkwan sighs again. When Seungkwan takes his next breath, Chan feels it, feels the way it braces against Seungkwan’s ribs as he holds it for a moment.

“Would you—” Seungkwan stops and tries again. “If you were under the mistletoe with someone, would you kiss them?”

Chan glances at Seungkwan’s face. It’s still obscured from his vision thanks to their shoulder to shoulder arrangement.

“Well,” Chan replies quietly, “I guess it would depend on who I was with.”

The radiator yawns and Seungkwan jumps in his seat.   

“Never—forget about it,” Seungkwan mutters. “It was a stupid question.”

Chan can feel Seungkwan’s blush and it makes him sweat a little; the faint fog on the windows nearby feels like a cartoonish exaggeration of the heat blooming between them, like a video game detail suggesting something indecent.

The silence between them grows and yet neither of them makes a move to separate. Seungkwan places the order, so they’ll have to be together until it arrives, at least.

Seungkwan shifts under Chan’s weight. The tension in his body is hard. Chan relaxes and hopes it will coax the discomfort from Seungkwan’s posture.

“So—” Seungkwan reaches forward as he speaks. His slightly longer limbs manage to bridge the gap between his body and the coffee table and he drags it closer. “What are you feeling? Movie? YouTube? Games?” 

“I know a movie will just make you fall asleep,” Chan sighs, because every time he tries to watch a movie with his hyungs they end up snoring on the couch, “and we’re waiting for food, so I guess we can YouTube until it comes and decide what to do after.”

“Always a logical one, Channie.”

Seungkwan grabs a Nintendo Switch controller because it’s the closest and powers up the system.

They go through some kpop choreo cover videos until they hear a knock at the door. Chan and Seungkwan exchange looks, daring the other to get up from their comfy position.

First, Seungkwan pokes Chan’s side. It’s a good surprise attack and Chan nearly falls onto the floor; he’s got good reflexes, though, and lunges for Seungkwan’s neck in retaliation, going for a weak spot.

Seungkwan squawks and another knock sounds through the room. Chan can barely contain his giggles as Seungkwan squirms under him.

“God, Lee Chan!” Seungkwan huffs. It sounds close to a whine, the way it tapers to a thin, high sound at the end, caught in the back of Seungkwan’s throat.

A key turns in the lock and both Chan and Seungkwan turn to look at the door.

“Are we about to get robbed?” Seungkwan whispers.

“What are you whispering for?” Chan replies and tickles Seungkwan’s neck again. “It’s probably Junhui coming back. Or someone who forgot something here.”

Seungkwan stretches flat against the couch’s armrest, panting and pink in the face. His eyes flash as he looks over at Chan; his body is stiff, on the defense, leaning away from Chan as if the distance will prevent another attack, but the position pulls at a certain instinct in Chan’s stomach. Chan feels like Seungkwan knows what he’s doing.

The door opens and in walk Minghao and Junhui carrying a tray of drinks and a brightly coloured box.

“You guys got delivery and didn’t invite us?” Junhui asks. There’s a clear pout in his voice.

“And don’t say you didn’t know we were here,” Minghao throws in.

Seungkwan struggles into an upright position. Chan feels every shift in his bones and muscles and his suspicion that Seungkwan must be doing this on purpose grows.

“It was blackmail to keep Chan from working himself to death on Christmas Eve,” Seungkwan explains, and Chan can’t keep track of how many loaded words were fit into one short sentence.

Minghao laughs and Junhui sighs, still pouting. They load up the couch, squishing Chan and Seungkwan even closer together.

“Alright, I guess I’ll accept that,” Junhui states. He opens the box in his lap and gasps when he sees the contents. “Okay, I take it back! Look how cute these are!” He pulls out a cupcake and examines it under the light. “The sprinkles look like lights on the Christmas tree cupcake! There’s even a little star on top!”

Seungkwan smiles at Junhui’s genuine wonder. “We can share,” he says. “And you’re welcome to join us for games.”

“How gracious for you to invite us,” Minghao deadpans. “We’re on the Switch? How about some Mario Kart?”

Junhui puts down the cupcake to gather the appropriate number of controllers.

“Sure,” Chan agrees. He’s not huge on video games, but it’s an easy and effective way to kill time with his members.

“200cc mirrored,” Junhui declares, like no one has a choice in the matter.

“And here I thought Seungkwan was the only masochist around,” Chan comments.

“You obviously don’t know Junhui that well,” Minghao replies.

“No comment,” Junhui says. He seems content to select the game settings with no further statements.

Seungkwan makes a series of unbelieving noises, playing victim so easily despite almost always being the instigator of these things. Chan grins at him.

“Speechless?” he asks. “That’s new. It’s a good look on you, hyung.”

“Calling me a masochist and asking for a beating in the same breath,” Seungkwan mutters in reply. He looks ready to throw a punch were he in a good position to do so; another good look on him, Chan has to admit.

“Sometimes, the pot calls the kettle black,” Minghao says.

Both Chan and Seungkwan blush.

“Listen kids, I want to play  _ this _ game,” Junhui says. “So are you gonna join me or not?”

Minghao snorts and takes up his controller; it takes Chan and Seungkwan a few seconds to stop sending each other heated looks before doing the same.

Chan thinks of the fogged windows and Seungkwan’s strategic posturing as the game loads the racetracks. He misses the starting speed boost, but soon he redirects his attention to the game. 

When Chan’s parents arrive at the dorm, Chan wishes his hyungs goodbye and merry Christmas at the door. They all exchange hugs, and when Seungkwan’s turn to embrace him comes around, Chan catches his eye first.

A dozen of smart remarks cross his mind. He thinks about the mistletoe and thinks about suggesting it as a decoration for their shared room; he thinks about making another jab at Seungkwan’s tendency to submit; he even briefly considers tickling him again, just to watch Seungkwan squirm.

Seungkwan holds Chan’s gaze. A small smile pulls at Seungkwan’s mouth, and the expression is so soft, so warm, that Chan forgets the heat built up in his stomach and can do nothing but smile back.

Seungkwan hugs him and then Chan lugs his bag out of the room. The hallway outside douses him in cold; at least he’ll have something to say if his parents ask him about his red cheeks.

 

* * *

 

“Oh my god,” Soonyoung’s noona says, watching Soonyoung’s front cam of Getting Closer over his shoulder, “is that Chan’s dick?”

Soonyoung blushes. By now, he feels like he should be used to this kind of comment from his sister, but it still gets him every time. Maybe that’s why she continues to do it.

Being the middle child sucks.

“N-No,” Soonyoung splutters, but his sister’s already gone, vanished in the blink in an eye.

On one hand, Soonyoung adores the aesthetic for the Getting Closer performances. The sleek leather look is an effortless kind of sexy, and the harnesses add the perfect touch of suggestiveness that their lyrics can’t say. Not yet, at least, especially when the majority of their fans are still underage.

On the other hand, it’s sometimes overwhelming for Soonyoung to see his members in such a state. He wonders if he’s on their level. He wonders if he overcompensates; he wonders if viewers also wonder about his dick flashing across the screen for just a second.

He’s seen Chan’s dick. That wasn’t Chan’s dick. But it’s also been a while since Soonyoung saw it, and maybe he’s grown, since puberty can do quite a number on, well, numbers.

Is it weird for him to be thinking about Chan’s dick? His sister started it. It’s totally weirder that his sister was talking about Chan’s dick. Of course.

Soonyoung watches more videos of their performance on the train back to Seoul. Now he’s just trying to keep track of all the maybe-dicks that come up. There aren’t many, since some of them are wearing long shirts or loose pants.

It really has been a while since he’s been caught in the shower with another member. That’s a good thing; privacy has been something they’ve well earned. But the seed of curiosity has been planted in his head and his sister is entirely to blame.

It doesn’t come to full bloom; by the time he arrives in Seoul, he’s cooked up enough ideas to crowd the dick-flower and stunt its growth.

[Chan]: hyung are you back in seoul yet?   
[Chan]: my parents dropped me off early because they had some errands to run and i wanted to review some things with you   
[Soonyoung]: just arrived   
[Soonyoung]: let me settle my stuff first and i’ll meet you in the practice room?   
[Chan]: gotcha

When Soonyoung finds Chan in the practice room going through his warm-ups, the first thing Soonyoung thinks of is Chan’s dick.

“Hey,” Soonyoung calls. He can’t guarantee a dick-thought-free day, but he’s ready to start early.

Chan looks up and waves, but he doesn’t stop moving. Soonyoung watches him for a while. Studies him.

Time has certainly changed a lot of things about Chan. He’s just plain bigger now. (No innuendo intended there. Barely one minute free of dick-thoughts.) It’s expected of boy groups to grow into a masculine image; each of the members have taken this idea in a different way, some traditionally and some not.

Puberty has really done a number to all of them. Soonyoung can thank it for hardening his soft face, but he’s hoping there’s still some growth in store for him.

Chan is so much more comfortable in his skin now. The stage has always been a place for him to present a groomed version of him for all to see, but now it’s less of a practiced act and more of an extension of his being. And maybe the two concepts overlap; it’s only the nature of performance.

One thing that hasn’t changed, however, is Chan’s reliance on Soonyoung. It’s reassuring. Soonyoung might be out of a job otherwise.

It’s easy to fall into step with Chan. Soonyoung jogs up to Chan and Chan shares his space with him, invites him into his warm-up without missing a beat. Soonyoung feeds on Chan’s energy and rides the music with Chan, rides the rhythm and the beats with him.

As they walk through Chan’s choreography concerns, Soonyoung feels acutely aware of how close they are. He can see Chan’s silhouette contrasted against his own in the image in the mirror and he can feel their body heat mingling along with their shortened breaths.

The confidence with which Chan holds his body has changed over time as well. Soonyoung might be easily flustered if it’s getting to him now, considering how familiar Soonyoung is with Chan’s presence. It would be embarrassing if Soonyoung had room in his head to be embarrassed.

Right now, his mind is occupied with the music and the steps and Chan. He’s not sure how well his mind can function buried under the weight of all that. Maybe it sustains itself to prolong the sensation, to remain in Chan’s presence. 

They execute a few moves together and hit a wall. Not literally, but Soonyoung’s heart slamming against his chest simulates the feeling well enough.

“Maybe I had too much to eat last night,” Soonyoung huffs. He rubs a hand over his eyes, his forehead. He sweeps off a layer of sweat and crinkles his nose.

Chan laughs in good nature.

“Wanna take a break, then?” Chan offers.

Soonyoung waves a hand but nods anyway. “I don’t, but we probably should,” he acquiesces.

Soonyoung shakes out his limbs and feels Chan’s eyes on him. That gaze has also changed over time; Soonyoung never spared it the time for contemplation, and that’s something he’s practiced for the sake of his own sanity, but sometimes his mind wanders.

Sometimes he wonders. What it would be like if he acted on the way Chan’s gaze made him feel. Sometimes.

He wonders if Chan has wondered as well.

The room is quiet and thick and heavy. Chan doesn’t say anything. Soonyoung doesn’t say anything.

Soonyoung leads but he doesn’t push limits to the point of breaking. Muscle needs to be torn before it grows back stronger, but people aren’t like that. Relationships aren’t like that. But drawing lines, determining limits, can be a dangerous exercise.

The silence stretches on as they grab water. Thinking can be a dangerous exercise, too.

Soonyoung startles when Chan comes up behind him. It takes only a second to find Chan’s eyes in the mirror, to follow the lines of his body and understand what Chan’s not saying.

“Oh,” Soonyoung says. He steps into the sequence suggested by Chan’s body language and he feels the pieces come together.

Together they build a canvas. They build the frame, stretch the fabric over it, prime the fabric. The paint will come when the rest of the members are introduced to the scene; for now, they lay down the foundation.

There is nothing more satisfying than this, Soonyoung thinks; his heart is beating fast in his chest and his lungs burn. Chan grins at him and Soonyoung grins back, delighted.

“What would I do without you?” Soonyoung laughs. A common thought that sometimes breaks through to the living world.

Chan’s smile brightens and he replies, “I think I should be the one saying that, hyung.”

There is no one like Chan. Chan is the only one who occupies this space like this, the only one who fills Soonyoung’s heart with this kind of feeling. Elation that reaches immeasurable heights.

And maybe sometimes these warm and fuzzy feelings are accompanied by dick-thoughts. Soonyoung is only a man, after all. A man with a shameless sister. A man with even less shame than that sister at times.

“Should we get something to eat?” Soonyoung suggests. “Maybe we should see who’s coming next and we can make something.”

“Sure, hyung,” Chan replies. His eyes are bright and his mouth is a shape that Soonyoung would like to contemplate with something besides his eyes. “Let’s get back to the dorms and see what we’ve got.”

Soonyoung nods and is glad to let his thoughts get swept away with plans for food and other people besides Lee Chan.


	3. trust me, trust me

Seungkwan has a problem. And when Seungkwan has a problem, the first to know (or to force it out of him) is Jeonghan. Naturally, as an extension of both Seungkwan and Jeonghan, Seokmin is next to know.

Seungkwan thinks he’s been pretty good about this. But maybe being roommates makes things harder to hide, and Seungkwan is hardly expecting it when Junhui corners him in their room one day.

It only makes sense, he supposes, considering that Junhui is a frequent member of Soonyoung’s and Chan’s circles as well.

Junhui doesn’t really corner so much as he suggests with coolness and concern. The perfect older brother. Seungkwan feels accused but at the same time without pressure. It’s a paradoxical feeling.

“I noticed you and Chan have been getting into fights more often,” Junhui says without looking up from his phone. Seungkwan has just entered the room and he barely has time to shut the door behind him lest anyone hear the beginning of this conversation and gain interest.

Seungkwan thinks he’s quick, but Junhui is quicker.

“Are you two having any problems?” Junhui continues.

Seungkwan freezes. His hand remains on the doorknob and god does he yearn to twist it and flee.

But escape would be damning and Seungkwan wouldn’t know how to act sneaky if his life depended on it. Being good sucks.

“N-No,” Seungkwan says. He flinches at his own tone.

“Are you sure?” Junhui asks. He lowers his phone and meets Seungkwan’s gaze from across the room.

Seungkwan takes a deep breath.

“I swear we’re not having any problems,” Seungkwan says. “At least… I don’t have any with him.”

“So you think he has some with you?” Junhui asks.

Seungkwan slowly shakes his head.

Junhui sits up. He glances at the doorknob before catching Seungkwan’s gaze again.

Wordlessly, he pats the space next to him on his bed. Seungkwan swallows thickly and shuffles over to him.

“I…” Seungkwan starts, but his thoughts fizzle and fade to smoke.

Junhui waits. His patience makes Seungkwan squirm; he’s been avoiding thinking about this subject and being put on the spot is the worst way of going about it.

“If we’ve been fighting more,” Seungkwan says slowly, considering each of his words carefully, “it’s because we’re just… playing. I promise. It’s—it’s fun.”

“I don’t know, Seungkwan,” Junhui says. The way he says Seungkwan’s name reminds Seungkwan of his sisters, and that doesn’t really sit well in his stomach. “I never thought fighting was really that fun.”

Seungkwan shakes his head again, faster this time. “I swear, I don’t mean any harm by it. And I don’t think Chan does, either,” he replies, but his voice feels weak.

Seungkwan looks up at Junhui. Junhui’s face is blank. A blank slate for Seungkwan to record his sins on.

Seungkwan twists his fingers together.

“Is it… Is it weird that I—like it when we fight?” Seungkwan asks.

Junhui’s expression doesn’t change. It’s an unusual look on him, since Junhui tends to rely on physical cues when it comes to communicating.

“Why is it that you like that, Seungkwan?” Junhui asks in return.

Seungkwan looks away.

“I don’t know,” Seungkwan replies. “I just do. Chan’s funny. And when I provoke him, he just… His reactions make me laugh.”

“You guys wrestle, too,” Junhui says. “I just want to make sure you guys don’t get hurt.”

Framing the situation like that pulls guilt into Seungkwan’s chest. He hadn’t even thought of that. He’s certain neither he or Chan are aiming to do real damage, but accidents happen.

“You’re right,” Seungkwan says softly. “I need to remember to put our health above our fun.”

Junhui pats Seungkwan’s shoulder. “I’m not trying to rain on your parade,” Junhui says, “but we also have shows to do, and practice as well.”

Seungkwan listens as Junhui holds his breath for a second, contemplative.

“If you need to express something that’s on your mind,” Junhui starts, “maybe you should try a different approach.”

“What are you saying, hyung?” Seungkwan asks hotly. Panic bleeds through his voice, but he can’t help it at this point.

Junhui looks down at him with a small smile.

“All I’m saying is that there are other ways to show your affection,” Junhui tells him. He laughs and Seungkwan feels his gut flip at his hyung’s nonchalance. 

“Don’t think about it too much,” Junhui says dismissively. He pats Seungkwan’s shoulder again. “I’m not trying to say anything. I was just a bit worried, that’s all.”

Seungkwan must be pouting because Junhui smiles wider and pulls Seungkwan into a hug.

When Junhui releases Seungkwan, he starts talking about the SuperStar Pledis beta. The way he switches gears so easily and so suddenly has Seungkwan seeing stars.

But he’ll take it over their previous conversation any time.

 

Still no word from Jeonghan or Seokmin. It makes Seungkwan nervous. Or maybe he’s just defaulted to a state of nervousness.

“Dude,” Hansol calls to him, “you need to chill the fuck out.”

Seungkwan snaps up from his laptop. He looks at Hansol before looking down at the notepad next to his computer. His notes, at some point, devolved into dots and squiggles.

Hansol plucks the pen out of Seungkwan’s hand and takes a seat next to him.

“What is this?” Hansol asks, peering over at the notepad. 

“Nothing really,” Seungkwan says. He puts both of his hands down on the paper and Hansol stops looking at it. “I was supposed to be working on Vlive stuff, but I ended up on YouTube instead.”

Hansol puts one of his hands over Seungkwan’s.

“Take it easy,” he says softly. “You’re stressing yourself out enough over the comeback track. You know it’s not a good idea to procrastinate with a new project. We’ve been over this.”

Seungkwan sighs. “Let’s get ice cream?” he asks. It’s not a suggestion but a request for permission.

Hansol curls his hand around Seungkwan’s and pulls him to his feet.

“Let’s go.”

 

They end up at a cafe instead since ice cream is out of season. Hansol pays for both of them, and that’s a sign that Seungkwan hasn’t been keeping his cool as well as he thought.

“I have a problem,” Seungkwan says once they sit down with their coffee and cookies.

Hansol cracks a half-smile.

“Thanks for saving me the trouble of asking,” he replies. “I mean, I wasn’t going to, but, you know.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes. “Come on, dude. You paid for me. That’s a giveaway if I ever saw one.”

“I swear I’m not that cheap, but okay,” Hansol says, throwing up his hands. “Sue me if I wanted to give my best friend something to lighten up the mood.”

“See!” Seungkwan cries. “And now you just called me ‘best friend’ and there aren’t even any cameras nearby!”

Hansol laughs helplessly.

“I’m not good at the whole interrogation thing,” he admits. “But I just—I dunno, dude. You’re starting to make me worried.”

“Apparently you’re not the only one,” Seungkwan mutters.

Seungkwan sighs before taking a sip of his coffee. Caffeine isn’t supposed to help with anxiety much, or at all, but the warmth soothes his soul. At least, he can tell himself it does.

“I just—I’ve been thinking about, um, someone, uh, a lot,” Seungkwan says. 

“Someone?” Hansol asks. Definitely not good at the interrogation thing. Seungkwan almost wishes it were Jeonghan sitting across from him in this booth.

Seungkwan sighs. Might as well spit it out before they spend an hour in here doing this awkward back and forth.

“Chan,” Seungkwan says. “Chan. I’ve been thinking a lot about Chan.”

Hansol’s brow furrows. “Okay?” he asks. It’s no follow up, but there’s a hopeful look on his face as he leans in closer to Seungkwan.

Seungkwan laughs. “God, you are  _ so _ bad at this,” he says.

Hansol smiles sheepishly. “Yeah, well, at least I’m trying,” he replies. He shrugs and Seungkwan feels some of the knots in his stomach loosen.

“Do you think—do you think it would be a bad idea to get, you know, involved with, um, another member?” Seungkwan asks.

Hansol’s brow furrows again. He holds his head in his hand. “Dude, you’re totally losing me. So this is about Chan, right, and now you’re wondering if it’d be a bad idea to what, date him?”

Hansol leans forward and takes Seungkwan’s hands into his own.

“Are you two fucking or something?” he asks.

“No, no!” Seungkwan exclaims, reeling back. He doesn’t pull out of Hansol’s grip, however. His cheeks and ears burn as he looks anywhere but Hansol’s face. “God, he doesn’t even—I swear I’m not—fuck—”

Seungkwan takes a few calming breaths. When he finally looks over at Hansol again, Hansol meets his gaze with a concerned expression, brows drawn tight over his eyes.

“Do you think it’s weird that, like—I like it when Chan, um… When Chan kind of—wrestles with me?” Seungkwan asks, voice barely above a whisper.

He’s been asking himself the same question ever since Junhui suggested that Seungkwan show his affection in a different way. The thing is, Seungkwan doesn’t want to change how they’ve been physical with each other. The contact is thrilling and he’s grown a taste for the way his heart races when Chan’s arms are around him.

Hansol hums.

“Well, I guess that depends,” Hansol says. “When you say you ‘like’ it, what do you mean?”

Seungkwan chews on his lip. “Um, I don’t know,” Seungkwan replies. “It just… feels nice. He’s gotten stronger, you know, so his grip is, um… firm. And stuff.”

Hansol’s eyebrows rise. “‘His grip is firm’,” he repeats.

Seungkwan looks down again. “Yeah,” he mumbles.

Hansol takes a deep breath. Seungkwan holds his breath.

“Dude, if you’re gonna make me say it, then I’m just going to, you know?” Hansol tells him.

Seungkwan stares at the table and plays with one of Hansol’s fingers. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters.

“Seungkwan,” Hansol says. “It’s—it’s okay, you know. If you’re attracted to him. It’s not weird.”

“But he’s my roommate,” Seungkwan says. 

“So?”

Seungkwan swallows. “He’s, um,” Seungkwan starts on a shaky breath. “He’s also, you know—I’m not…”

“Listen,” Hansol says softly, “we don’t have to throw around labels if you don’t think you’re ready yet. But it’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with feeling the way that you do about him. I swear. Maybe it might be a little inconvenient since we work together, but I’m sure you two can work it out.”

Seungkwan finally lets go of Hansol’s hands. He leans back in his seat and folds his hands together in his lap. He stares down at his fingers, the lines of his bones and joints and skin, the pink of his nails.

“Nothing about me… has changed,” Seungkwan says slowly. “I’m still the same me I was before I started feeling this way.”

His hands are still his own, even if now he wants to wrap them around Chan’s.

“Exactly,” Hansol says emphatically. “You’re not like, a monster. You’re the same as you were before, except maybe you have a taste for being manhandled.”

Seungkwan blushes and glares at Hansol. Frustration burns hot in his gut when Hansol smiles at him, but the expression is not unkind. 

All in all, Seungkwan thinks, it could be worse.

Seungkwan sighs and all the air rushes out of him at once. “I like him so much,” Seungkwan laments. “He’s so—smart, and funny, like,  _ so  _ fucking funny, dude. He makes me laugh and  _ I _ make him laugh, and you know how important that is to me.”

The smile on Hansol’s face takes on a softer shade. “I know, Seungkwannie,” he says. “We all know you’d die if someone told you that you weren’t the funniest guy they knew.”

“Exactly,” Seungkwan replies. “And he knows. He’s looking out for me, Hansol. He’s so—so good. So good.”

Seungkwan frowns and tries to cover up the expression by eating a pastry in one bite. Hansol laughs and pats Seungkwan’s arm.

“You know, it could be worse,” Hansol tells him.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. You could have a crush on an asshole. Like, maybe some untouchable sunbae you met on a variety show.”

“Oh, god,” Seungkwan groans. “Yeah, that would be way worse. Good thing all the hosts on those shows are, like, old and wrinkly and gross.”

Hansol grins. He pats Seungkwan’s arm one more time before browsing their pastry selection for his next morsel.

“You guys can work it out,” Hansol says. “You guys are good together. Like, as friends. So you’ve got a strong foundation at least. I doubt he’ll be repelled by the idea considering how he never backs down from your provocations and stuff.”

Seungkwan’s chewing slows. “You know,” he says, “I never thought of it that way.”

Hansol shrugs. “It takes two to tango. And wrestle. So, you know.”

“You may be onto something.”

“I’m not as dumb as I look,” Hansol replies with a grin.

“And that is incredibly dumb, seeing as you’re so damn pretty!” Seungkwan reaches out and pinches Hansol’s cheek.

“I’m gonna take that as a compliment,” Hansol grumbles.

Seungkwan laughs and together they tear through the rest of the pastries and discuss upcoming work events.

 

 

* * *

 

Soonyoung’s shoulder problem has been a chronic thing that’s been plaguing him for some time. Today, there’s a close call underlined with a pain flare, so the managers send him to the doctor’s office to be examined. Chan volunteers to go with him and to drive him back home, despite numerous offers from various staff members. 

It’s weird: normally Chan would hesitate to walk away from work, but seeing Soonyoung in this condition drew Chan to him with a call louder than that of the practice room.

“Will you come with me?” Soonyoung asks when his name is called at the office, holding Chan’s hand with a delicate grip.

Soonyoung is always full of aegyo and even Chan isn’t immune to it.

Today must be especially bad: Soonyoung’s grip quickly turns to steel when the doctor pokes and prods at him. When Soonyoung is forced to let go of Chan for further examination, his eyes are wide and his lip trembles; Chan’s heart lurches in his chest.

Conditions haven’t worsened, luckily, but the doctor reminds Soonyoung that constant strain won’t help the problem. The doctor refills Soonyoung’s pain meds and tells him to take it easy.

Both Chan and Soonyoung know he won’t.

There’s a pharmacy next door to the hospital and Chan deals with the meds pick-up. While they wait for it to be processed, Chan browses the shelves.

“Hey,” he says, tugging on Soonyoung’s good arm. “The doctor suggested this tape, right? To hold your arm in place or something.”

Soonyoung leans his chin on Chan’s shoulder to get a better look at the product. “Yeah, I think so,” Soonyoung replies. 

“Let’s get some,” Chan says. “We can put it on the company card.”

“It’s kind of expensive, though.”

“Better reason to use the company card.”

Soonyoung snorts, but he doesn’t object any further. Like this, in pain that Chan can’t comprehend, can only be grateful he doesn’t, Soonyoung is subdued. Flickering embers of a fire, a star fading on the horizon. An entirely different creature.

Chan knows he can’t expect Soonyoung to get back on his feet so quickly; he is only human, after all. But when he’s like this, Chan can barely stand it. It’s selfish, to want to be in control of Soonyoung’s capacity to hide his pain, and that’s a weird thought to acknowledge, knowing that, ultimately, he just wants Soonyoung to feel better.

It’s all very complicated.

The time on their pick-up slip arrives after some meandering and Chan brings the tape over to the register, too. Chan has done this before, for his brother, and one time his mom was sick and his dad was out of town. But it’s different, doing it for a friend. Part of him feels like maybe he’s stepping out of line.

He’s reassured, with a lingering acidic bite on the edge of his thoughts, when Soonyoung thanks him quietly and continues to hold his hand through the transaction, providing info when necessary.

Afterwards, they pile into the car without much trouble.

“I need to take this with food,” Soonyoung says.

“Right,” Chan replies. “Do you want something while we’re out? My treat.”

Soonyoung snorts. He leans the side of his head against the window. “We should just get back,” he mutters. “No need to go out of your way just for this.”

Chan hums. “Well, what if I just wanted to hang out with my favourite hyung?” he asks.

Soonyoung turns his head, and the pout sitting pretty on his lips is precious.

“I’m your favourite hyung?” he asks. He’s practically batting his eyelashes.

Chan can’t help but smile. “Of course,” he says softly. “Since I heard that I’m your favourite dongsaeng and all that.”

Soonyoung smiles back and a fraction of his usual starlight returns to his face.

“Okay, Channie. I’ll let you treat me,” he replies.

Navigating with the help of Google Maps is simple enough. Chan sends off several texts updating people of the situation and receives no opposition; he’s proved his capability several times over. Plus, it’s not like they’re that far from home. Chan is an adult, dammit, and an older brother at that. Things will be fine.

They eat and try to discuss things other than work. Conversation turns to music and it’s casual, it’s easy. The food is good and the company is good and things could be worse, Chan thinks.

It’s a bit of a different story when Soonyoung’s meds start to kick in.

“Can I play some music, Channie?” Soonyoung asks. His voice drips honey and Chan finds himself agreeing faster than he can compute the request.

Some foreign electro music fills the car when Soonyoung plugs in his phone, but it doesn’t last long. Soonyoung moves onto some Crush before settling as comfortably as he can against the car door; the passenger seat doesn’t favour his good arm.

“This song reminds me of you,” Soonyoung mumbles. His eyes are closed and street lamps highlight his eyelashes intermittently against the coming darkness of the early evening. “Intense but easy to listen to… Complex flavours without being uncomfortable on the palate…”

He sounds like he’s falling asleep. Sitting behind the wheel, Chan can’t do much to check on him.

“Hyung?” Chan calls when Soonyoung’s voice trails off.

“I love you, you know,” Soonyoung murmurs. “Thanks for taking care of your burdensome hyung.”

“Hyung—”

“No, really, I mean it,” Soonyoung continues. “I love you. You always push me to work harder and that means so much to me. Even if working harder puts me in this spot, in the passenger’s seat on the way home from the doctor’s. It felt nice to have you with me in there.”

“Hyung,” Chan murmurs. He reaches across the gear stick and takes Soonyoung’s hand. “Don’t even mention it. I was glad to be there.”

“You take good care of me,” Soonyoung says.

“You deserve the best, hyung,” Chan replies softly. His heart lurches again, hitting the roof of his mouth, beating it with such a desperate force that Chan can barely keep it contained behind his teeth.

It pains Chan to see Soonyoung like this; all he wants is for Soonyoung to smile his bright smile and stretch his arms wide and embrace the world with his usual gusto.

But this is the best Chan can do for him. He’s not a doctor nor is he Soonyoung’s keeper—even if part of him wishes he were at least that, in some form.

Chan squeezes Soonyoung’s hand before returning his own to the wheel.

 

Soonyoung falls asleep for the rest of the ride back to the dorms. He rouses with a furrowed brow and clenched teeth when Chan calls to him, and Chan’s stomach drops as he watches Soonyoung grab at his bad arm.

“Let’s get inside, hyung,” Chan murmurs. “You can go back to sleep in there.”

Soonyoung clings to Chan like a baby as they walk inside; it makes the journey a lot longer, but Chan can’t find it in himself to care.

The dorm is silent when they arrive. The group must still be at the company building; at least that minimizes any possibility for bad interactions. 

Chan hardly gets alone time with his hyung, anyway. Even if circumstances aren’t anywhere near ideal, this is still… nice. Bittersweetly.

Chan fetches Soonyoung some water before following him to bed. Soonyoung and Hansol’s room isn’t exactly tidy, but Chan has learned how to navigate it by now.

After setting the water on the nearest clean surface, Chan asks, “Is there anything else you want, hyung?”

Soonyoung, sitting hunched over on the bed, looks up at Chan. He takes Chan’s wrist and pulls him closer; Chan realizes then that he’s standing between Soonyoung’s legs.

This is more of a precarious situation than Chan thought.

“Stay with me please?” Soonyoung asks. He tilts his chin up at Chan, eyes pleading, fingers weak but desperate around Chan’s arm.

“H-Hyung,” Chan stutters in reply. This is kind of an incriminating position—especially considering the damning way his heart sends blood to his face and his pelvis.

The plea shapes Soonyoung’s mouth so prettily, forming a heart when moved just right, and Chan feels himself falling. 

Suddenly, Soonyoung lets go, and Chan nearly falls for real.

“Never mind,” Soonyoung mutters, turning away. “No, you should go back. Go join the others. We have a lot of work to do. I can’t keep you back.”

Chan steps forward. Soonyoung accommodates him and spreads his legs wider.

“Don’t be ridiculous, hyung,” Chan says. “You could never hold me back. Besides, how can I move forward without you?”

Chan means that in so many more ways than words can convey.

“Let me take care of you,” Chan murmurs. “It’s okay. We can take a break. Aren’t you always saying that I work too hard?”

Soonyoung takes his wrist again and tugs Chan down. Chan goes willingly, puts a knee between Soonyoung’s to settle his weight.

Suspended like this, Chan can do nothing as Soonyoung’s hand travels from his wrist and up his arm, trailing a path up to his cheek. Soonyoung cups his face with a tender touch, yet it holds the power to keep Chan completely still.

“You’ve gotten so handsome, you know?” Soonyoung says quietly. His voice is soft and wispy in the thick air between them. Soonyoung takes a breath, as if to say something else, but it dissipates before it can come to life; instead of speaking, Soonyoung traces his fingers over Chan’s nose, the rise of his cheekbones, his brow bone, and then drops his fingers to hover near Chan’s lips.

Chan holds his tongue. He would hold his breath if it wouldn’t ultimately kill him, staying still for long enough to hammer this moment into his mind forever.

He’s not sure how to proceed, knowing Soonyoung isn’t exactly in his right mind. Of course, he’d only been following Soonyoung’s whims until now, but that doesn’t make it okay. It doesn’t make it something that Soonyoung is fully aware of.

Chan puts his other knee over one of Soonyoung’s thighs and gingerly lowers his weight. Soonyoung lowers his chin now that they’re eye to eye; there’s a weight behind Soonyoung’s eyes as he regards Chan.

Soonyoung brushes his fingers over Chan’s lips before tracing Chan’s jawline. Finally, his hand comes to a rest at the back of Chan’s neck and curls around it with a rigidity that suggests possessiveness.

“What’s on your mind?” Soonyoung asks. The sudden prompt to speak almost makes Chan jump.

“Um,” Chan replies. He holds Soonyoung’s gaze and feels gravity bearing down on his shoulders. He couldn’t dare look away. “I just—this is—”

Chan can’t possibly put what he’s thinking into words. He makes a sweeping gesture with his hands.

“Is this okay?” he asks instead, hoping Soonyoung will hear what he’s not saying.

Soonyoung tilts his head.

“Is what okay?” he asks in response. “You’re not too heavy, if that’s what you’re wondering. It’s fine. Or are you saying you’re too old for cuddles now?”

There’s a twist to Soonyoung’s lips when he smiles and cups Chan’s neck. “That’s all I want, you know,” he says. “I just want your company. That’s okay, isn’t it?”

Chan’s eyebrows draw together as he nods. “Of course, hyung,” Chan murmurs.

He lifts a hand to brush some of Soonyoung’s hair out of his eyes. It feels bouncier now that most of Soonyoung’s natural hair has grown back, but Chan doubts that will last long.

Still, it’s a privilege to touch Soonyoung no matter what state he’s in—maybe even more so now that he’s in his current condition.

Chan pulls Soonyoung into his arms and embraces him. Immediately, Soonyoung squeezes him back, even using his bad arm, swallowing Chan up in warmth. Soonyoung guides Chan onto his back using his knee to nudge Chan’s hip, and together they slowly pile onto the mattress in a mess of tangled limbs.

“It’s so frustrating,” Soonyoung eventually says into Chan’s shoulder, his lips brushing Chan’s shirt. “I hate this so fucking much. I feel so—so helpless. I’m just a burden—what kind of leader does that make me? I’m gonna fall behind at this rate. This business always moves so fast, and this condition won’t let me move at the pace I want to.”

Soonyoung’s fingers curl in Chan’s shirt and his words get caught against Chan’s shoulder, but his desperation vibrates through Chan’s bones so clearly Chan doesn’t need to hear his words to understand his feelings. And Chan can do nothing but hold him through it.

He doesn’t cry, but his breathing shakes and his shoulders shake and Chan can’t keep up with him. Soonyoung doesn’t stop talking until he can’t carry on, his words breaking apart into fractured breaths and little hiccups.

“Hyung,” Chan says when he’s afforded the opportunity to speak. “Hyung, it’s—you don’t really think that’s true, do you?”

Soonyoung doesn’t move or make any indication that he plans to reply.

Chan swallows, tries to wet his throat, before moving on: “Listen—you’ve been handling this so well. I have no idea how much it hurts, but you’ve been doing so good with it. Sometimes, there will be days like this, but the occasional setback won’t put such a huge hole in your plans. Not yours. Not you. You’re too strong for that.”

Soonyoung inhales, but Chan doesn’t let him speak and plows on: “Who was the one who came back on stage the same day he dislocated his shoulder? Hyung, none of us could have done that. You’ve never let this stop you. One day, two days, however many days won’t stop you from doing your best because you always go on anyway. You always try so hard, you know? No one expects you to be in top form every single day; the world can wait every now and then, you know?”

Soonyoung shifts and untucks his face from Chan’s shoulder. “I’m just—I’m just scared,” he whispers, “of being a disappointment.”

Chan seizes this new opportunity to cup Soonyoung’s cheek the same way it was done to him earlier, with reverence, with loving gentleness.

“You could never be a disappointment, hyung,” Chan tells him. “Not because of this. You didn’t ask for this. And still, you keep going anyway; hell, you’re an inspiration, you know?”

Soonyoung smiles but he bats at Chan’s chest. “You’re just saying that,” he says.

Chan lifts Soonyoung’s face from his shoulder. Soonyoung’s eyes are shiny with unshed tears and they glisten now that light falls over them. A different set of stars, beautiful as ever despite the melancholy that burns in the centre of them.

“You know I’d never lie to you, hyung,” Chan says. “What would I gain from lying to you?”

“Brownie points?”

“I don’t need to lie to get those. I mean, why else would I be here right now?”

“Point taken.”

Soonyoung lifts his good hand to rub at his eyes. He ducks out of Chan’s view and Chan lets him. He drops his hand to Soonyoung’s shoulders and waits for him to speak or move again.

“Okay, okay,” Soonyoung mutters. “No more crying. Can’t be a very good example if I’m wailing in my maknae’s arms, can I?”

“It’s okay to cry, you know,” Chan says.

Soonyoung takes a shaky breath. “Yeah, but if I get snot on you, who knows what you’ll do next, right?”

Chan scoffs. Soonyoung looks up and grins and the radiance of his expression burns right through to Chan’s heart in one easy strike.

“You make me out to be some sort of villain,” Chan says with feigned hurt.

Soonyoung reaches up and taps on the tip of Chan’s nose.

“You make your intensity no secret, Channie,” he says, still grinning.

Chan isn’t sure if he should blush, but it’s not exactly his choice to make.

“Don’t worry,” Soonyoung continues. “I like it.” His grin grows a fraction. “It’s sexy.”

Before Chan gets a chance to reply to that remark, the bedroom door opens.

“Soonyoung-hyung,” Hansol calls. 

A few other curious heads pop into the room: Seungkwan, Seungcheol, and Seokmin.

“Aw,” Soonyoung says, sitting up a bit, “did you all come to see me?”

Seokmin carefully steps into the room while Seungkwan just marches forward. He’s another frequent visitor of this room. Seungcheol is the last to enter, trailing in his dongsaengs’ footsteps.

“How are you doing?” Seungkwan asks. His approach speaks of his impatient concern more than his tone does; his body is rigid, waiting to strike if need be, but his voice is soft.

Soonyoung shrugs and winces immediately afterwards. Chan tightens his grip around Soonyoung’s waist.

“Could be worse,” Soonyoung states. “Got more meds. Woohoo.”

Seungcheol puts a hand on Soonyoung’s ribs.

“You need to rest,” Seungcheol says quietly. “Eat if you haven’t and sleep if you can manage it.”

“Is that an order, boss?” Soonyoung asks, all while turning his face into Chan’s chest. “Because I’m ready to sleep right now.”

“But your nightly skin routine,” Seokmin says. It’s such a mundane thing to worry about, and yet his tone carries such deep despair.

Chan brushes his fingers through the hair on the back of Soonyoung’s head.

“Listen,” Chan says without looking up, “I’ll wake him up in an hour or two and make sure he brushes his teeth and stuff. But the meds kicked in a while ago and I don’t think he’s really here right now.”

Seokmin and Seungkwan exchange looks.

“Sounds good to me,” Hansol says, already retreating to his side of the room. “I’ll be backup in case they both fall asleep.”

He begins stripping out of his practice clothes and his carefree attitude about the whole thing slices through the tension of the room. Slowly, the pressure leaks from the lacerations left in Hansol’s casual wake and Chan can feel the breath ease from his members’ chests. 

“Okay,” Seokmin says. He finds Soonyoung’s fingers and gives them a brief squeeze. “I just wanted—to check, even though Chan said you were fine.”

“Me too,” Seungcheol says, rubbing the back of his neck. Chan isn’t sure why Seungcheol’s first instinct is to adopt a sheepish expression, but Chan doesn’t think he’ll ever understand Seungcheol’s mannerisms at this point.

“We can double check tomorrow,” Chan says. “I think—I think it’s just best if we let him rest for now.”

As if on cue, Soonyoung starts to snore. Chan could already tell he was falling asleep earlier by the way his weight went slack and his breathing slowed, but that’s an advantage of being directly under him.

Seungcheol and Seokmin bid their goodbyes and shuffle out of the room. Seungkwan, however, lingers. Hansol glances at Seungkwan’s back before leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.

Subtle. Too bad Chan’s not a mindreader.

“So, um,” Seungkwan starts, fingers caught at the edge of one sleeve, “he’s really doing okay, right?”

Chan relays all that he can remember from the doctor’s visit. Seungkwan nods and continues to fidget.

“Did he give you a hard time?” Seungkwan asks. When Chan furrows his brow, confused, Seugnkwan is quick to continue with, “I mean, like—since he’s older, you know, I was wondering if he was, I don’t know… being difficult. About you taking care of him.”

Chan hums his understanding. He shakes his head.

“No,” Chan replies. “I think he could have been worse, definitely. But—I guess he didn’t have the energy for it.”

Seungkwan frowns and the expression sits heavy on Chan’s chest, heavier than his deadweight charge currently snoring away. Seungkwan frowns and Chan wants nothing more than to wipe it away with his fingers, or his lips, anything—

Seungkwan bends to brush some of Soonyoung’s hair over his ear.

“He looks very peaceful like this,” Seungkwan says very quietly. Barely above a whisper.

His fingers ghost over the shell of Soonyoung’s ear before dropping to rest on his shoulder. Seungkwan traces the seams of his shirt with that same gentle touch—wanting to be close without disturbing the slumbering creature.

Chan understands the gestures as he watches them unfold. Had he been in Seungkwan’s place, Chan feels that he would have done the exact same thing.

“He’s pretty when he’s not yelling and sweating, huh?” Chan asks.

He glances up at Seungkwan’s face. A smile cracks the otherwise hard expression—not quite stony, perhaps something more delicate like porcelain. Seungkwan’s eyes flit over to meet Chan’s.

“As much as I hate to admit it, he’s pretty even when he’s doing all that,” Seungkwan says. A deliberate pause like setting up a trap, and then: “Don’t you think so?”

Chan holds Seungkwan’s gaze.

“Unfortunately,” Chan says, “yeah. I do.”

Seungkwan presses his lips into a line. He spins the stud on Soonyoung’s visible ear before moving to take a seat on the bed, by Chan’s knees.

“Chan—” Seungkwan starts, on the crest of a deep inhale, “how do you feel—about Soonyoung?”

The question is like an arrow to the chest. Pointed, deadly. Chan really stepped into this trap unprepared.

“Um—what do you mean?” Chan asks.

Seungkwan smiles, though it seems self-deprecating, somehow.

“Feel free to interpret it as you please,” Seungkwan tells him. “I promise I’m not—trying to trick you, or anything. This isn’t a joke. I’m just genuinely curious.”

This is a bad time, Chan thinks, lying under the man in question. But maybe it’s the only time Seungkwan could feel comfortable asking—if this situation could be called comfortable at all. Maybe appropriate is a better word. Or maybe it’s really not.

Chan sighs and the movement of his chest is echoed by Soonyoung. Maybe this is actually a great time to ask this question—forced into honesty in the face of the reality of the situation. In the face of Soonyoung himself.

“He’s my hyung,” Chan says simply. “He’s one of my best friends. He’s—he’s my role model. I would do anything for him, honestly. Anything that I could. He’s so special to me… I wouldn’t know where I’d be without him. I wouldn’t know—who I would be without him. Not the same Dino you see on stage. Not the same Lee Chan, either.”

Chan runs his thumb over the suggestion of Soonyoung’s ribs under his shirt, his skin, his muscle. Nothing compares to this feeling—being under Soonyoung, holding Soonyoung, simply being near him. But to voice that thought…

“I don’t know, Seungkwan,” Chan says without looking up. “There’s no simple way to say it. And I don’t think you want to hear the long version, either.”

“I’ve got all night,” Seungkwan replies. “We’re done with practice for today and I’ve got no plans for the rest of today.”

Chan snorts. “Then maybe I don’t want to tell you the long version,” Chan says.

Seungkwan hesitates before he says, “That’s fair. It was a loaded question.”

“You are the master of those, after all.” Chan grins and adds, “I could tell you the long version, but I think I’d rather wait until I tell him myself.”

Chan looks up and finds Seungkwan studying him, an eyebrow raised and lips pressed in a thin line.

“So—you’re planning on confessing?” Seungkwan asks.

Chan laughs aloud this time. “Seungkwan,” Chan says, “whatever it’s gonna be, it doesn’t really matter right now, does it?”

For a moment, Seungkwan is quiet.

“You’re right,” he sighs eventually. “I guess—this whole thing just made it all seem… very urgent.”

“I think I see what you mean,” Chan replies. “And it’s certainly been a day. But tomorrow is another day and we can see what’s in store for us then.”

Chan pauses. He smiles to himself and deliberately avoids looking at Seungkwan’s face.

“And you can see what’s in store for you,” Chan adds. Before Seungkwan can speak, and that boy always has so many things to say, Chan continues, “But for now, I think we could all use some rest.”

Chan can hear Seungkwan thinking; he can hear the gears whirring in his head. He is familiar with the pattern of noise by now. Seungkwan’s smart, so smart it scares Chan sometimes, leaves him terribly bare sometimes, but Seungkwan’s worst enemy is always himself. And, although it might be cruel to think, that might be the break Chan needs to keep his composure together.

The end of the year is always such a tumultuous time.

“You’re so smart, Lee Chan,” Seungkwan says. He stands and stuffs his hands into his pockets; his elbows are stiff, strained. He tilts his head and continues, “You really were given many gifts when you came into the world.”

Chan cracks a smile.

“I was given my gifts so I could share them, hyung,” he says.

Seungkwan snorts. “Just shut up for once, will you?” he retorts without any real malice or sharpness. His voice carries a dull exhaustion. “Take your own advice and give it a rest.”

Chan just barely holds back his laughter; he’s sure the volume and resulting movement would rouse his sleeping charge.

“Come check up on him later,” Chan invites him. “He’ll likely be lucid in a couple of hours.”

Seungkwan shakes his head. “No, no,” he sighs, “as much as I hate to admit it, you’re right: I really do need to get some rest. I think I’m really starting to lose it, you know?”

Seungkwan starts walking towards the door before Chan can address his latest comment—then again, maybe he should really just shut up.

“Well,” Chan says, “I hope you sleep well, Seungkwan.”

Seungkwan hovers by the door. He rests a hand on it and turns to look Chan in the eye. Chan can feel Seungkwan trying to drill into him, trying to peel back his layers, and somehow, Chan feels okay with it. He’d open up if he knew how. If he knew what Seungkwan was searching for.

But Seungkwan doesn’t tell him. He says, “Thank you, Channie. You too,” along with a good night and opens the door to leave.

Hansol returns in Seungkwan’s wake with a lingering look at Seungkwan’s back. But he doesn’t have anything to say when he enters. He just hops onto his bed and stretches out with his phone in his hand.

Quiet seeps into the room like fog creeping onto the edges of Chan’s mind. Lines blur and it’s a relief to feel himself letting go. Before he drops off entirely, he sets an alarm, but then he lets himself sink into Soonyoung’s warmth completely; honey sweet velvet welcomes him and soft rose petals break his fall when he finally descends, down, down, down.

 

And waking up to Soonyoung in his arms despite the shrill call of his alarm in the background is a sweeter sensation still.

Chan wakes quickly. The fog occupying his brain lifts with calm winds and clarity comes to him so that he can drink in Soonyoung sooner.

“Off,” Hansol grumbles from the other side of the room.

Chan throws his hand around the nightstand until he’s able to shut off his phone alarm.

Soonyoung yawns and nestles in closer to the crook of Chan’s neck.

“What time is it?” Soonyoung croaks.

“It’s almost ten,” Chan replies.

“In the morning?!”

Chan chuckles. He smooths down the hair on the back of Soonyoung’s head.

“No, no,” Chan tells him. “You haven’t been sleeping that long.” He continues to pet Soonyoung’s head as he asks, “Are you hungry?”

Soonyoung hums in thought before nodding.

“Alright, hyung,” Chan says, “let’s get some late dinner.”

Hansol is sitting upright in his bed with his head in his hands when Chan and Soonyoung right themselves. He pays them no mind as they both stretch and take their time waking up their bodies.

Soonyoung holds Chan’s hand as he wanders out of his room. The apartment is quiet, but not quite asleep. Vibrations in the floor, music from speakers or low conversation behind closed doors, alert Chan and Soonyoung of their roommates’ presence.

When they arrive in the kitchen, they find Seungkwan asleep at the kitchen table. Junhui is sitting across from him and he looks up and waves when he notices Soonyoung and Chan entering the room.

“Hey,” Junhui says, standing. He scurries away from the table to keep the conversation away from Seungkwan. “He asked me to make him some ramyun, and I figured you two might want some since you didn’t have dinner with us.”

Junhui approaches Soonyoung before putting careful hands on Soonyoung’s forearms. Soonyoung smiles at him, lines around his mouth dark with his fatigue, and Junhui frowns and nods.

“You okay?” Junhui asks. He steps closer still as if proximity will provide answers regarding Soonyoung’s condition.

Junhui pats Soonyoung down, paying special attention to his shoulder, and steps out of his personal bubble only when he’s satisfied. Still, he leaves a hand at the base of Soonyoung’s skull, fingers curled in the short hair there.

Soonyoung shrugs when Junhui asks no further questions.

“Better than earlier,” he replies. “Sleep helped.”

Junhui nods. “Then food should help more,” he declares. He pats Soonyoung’s good shoulder before gesturing towards Seungkwan with his chin.

“That one fell asleep working even though we’re supposed to keep work away from home,” Junhui explains. “I put away his stuff for him, so tell him in case he asks.”

Chan takes a hold of one of Junhui’s arms. “Wait,” he says, “are you going to bed now?”

Junhui leans into the touch. He relinquishes his concerned hold on Soonyoung to float over to Chan’s side and envelop him in a loose embrace.

“Yeah, it’s kinda late,” he tells Chan. “I was thinking about taking a shower, too. I will contemplate further on the toilet.”

Both Chan and Soonyoung laugh and Junhui smiles at them. He bids them farewell, and when Chan catches his eye before he turns around completely, he gets a strange feeling in his chest. There’s no evidence that there’s any foul play going around, and he gets distracted when Soonyoung wanders over to the kitchen to inspect a pot on the stove.

“Oh, it’s warm,” Soonyoung says, followed by some slurping sounds.

They try their best to stay quiet lest they disturb Seungkwan. They end up eating standing up, mirrored postures leaning against the counter with their bowls held close to their faces.

“He’s peaceful, huh?” Soonyoung whispers.

Chan smiles. “That’s what he said about you, earlier,” Chan replies. “He… he stayed for a bit when he first came to visit and you fell asleep.”

Soonyoung chews on that information for a while. 

“He’s cute,” Soonyoung says between bites.

Despite the awkward stance, standing there side by side with Soonyoung is comfortable. Together, they finish up the pot of noodles and leave the bowls in the sink to clean later.

Soonyoung crosses his arms over his chest and lets out a puff of breath. Chan is about to ask about indigestion, but Soonyoung beats him to the chase.

“He’s grown up so much, hasn’t he?” Soonyoung whispers. It’s followed by a laugh with a slight acidic tone to it. “Guess it’s dumb to ask you, seeing as you’re younger, but, god…”

Soonyoung runs a hand through his hair. His bad hand. At least he’s doing better in that regard.

“He used to be so small,” Soonyoung sighs. “All weedy and awkward. And his cheeks were  _ so _ round. Now the roundest part of him is his ass.”

Chan tries not to choke on air.

Soonyoung reaches over to grab a handful of Chan’s ass. Chan tries not to knock anything over when he jumps.

“You two were gifted with such good genetics,” Soonyoung says wistfully.

“Gifts were meant to be shared,” Chan replies, grinning. “But I guess you got the memo already.”

Soonyoung whines quietly, lowly in his throat, and turns to face Chan enough so that he can grab Chan’s ass with both hands. He leans his cheek against Chan’s back and really goes for it.

“So round! So firm!” Soonyoung whisper-cries. 

“Are you sure you’re still not, like, druggy?” Chan asks, unable to prevent the laughter from coming through in his tone.

Soonyoung collapses against Chan’s back with an exaggerated sigh.

“I don’t know,” Soonyoung whines. “Maybe I am. Is it a crime for me to think you’re hot?”

“Uh,” Chan replies, “I guess not. But you really made leaps and bounds to come to this train of thought.”

“Maybe it’s the drugs, then.”

Their conversation causes Seungkwan to stir. First, Seungkwan straightens his back. Then, he blinks his eyes slowly, trying to understand the landscape before him.

“So noisy,” he complains. “Some people are trying to sleep, you know.”

Soonyoung approaches the table and stands behind Seungkwan’s chair. He puts both hands on Seungkwan’s shoulders and kneads them.

“The table is not for sleeping, Seungkwannie,” he says. “Let’s go to bed, hmm?”

Seungkwan blinks. He looks up at Chan and asks, “Hey, I’m not dreaming, am I? Or did he say what I think he said?”

Chan laughs. Seungkwan pouts, blinking some more. His sleepy confusion rounds his lips prettily and makes his eyelids fold cutely, just barely open.

“Let’s all go to bed,” Chan tells him, a smirk curving his lips in a way he might consider wicked. Judging by the way Seungkwan’s eyes widen, suddenly awake, it might just be. 

Seungkwan starts to say something, but he thinks better of it and snaps his jaw shut.

“It’s a good idea,” Soonyoung agrees. He loops both his arms under Seungkwan’s chin and sways from side to side. “It’ll be much comfier than the table, Seungkwannie; I promise.”

“Are you offering to carry me, hyung?” Seungkwan asks. He almost stutters. Chan’s smirk widens.

“You know I’m in no condition to do so,” Soonyoung says, pouting as well. “You can always ask Channie. He’s so strong these days.”

Chan snorts. He pushes off the counter to approach Seungkwan’s side.

“You weren’t sleeping too long?” Chan asks. He takes Seungkwan’s chin in his hand, turning his head from side to side to examine him. Under the kitchen light, Chan can see the blush in Seungkwan’s cheeks, such a pretty, vibrant pink.

“Uh,” is all Seungkwan is able to say.

Maybe it’s a little unfair to gang up on Seungkwan like this. But Chan just can’t resist.

“It wouldn’t be good to get too puffy before bed,” Chan continues. He swipes his thumb over Seungkwan’s lips. “Don’t forget to exfoliate these before bed, too. Winter isn’t being too kind to them, huh?”

Chan can feel Seungkwan’s heart beating in his throat frantically, feverishly, and he can see the pink in his cheeks deepen to a rosy red. 

The excitement thrumming in Chan’s veins as he quite literally holds Seungkwan in the palm of his hand is reminiscent of their physical fights and Chan understands Seungkwan a little better now.

“I have got to be dreaming,” Seungkwan whispers.

Chan feels Soonyoung’s eyes drift over to his face, but Chan can’t look away from Seungkwan.

If this is what Seungkwan dreams about, Chan would be happy to make them reality. If Seungkwan would look up at him like this, breath suspended in his chest, heart beating against Chan’s skin, Chan would do anything.

Chan chances a glance in Soonyoung’s direction and finds him blushing as well. 

Maknae on top indeed.

“Your ass will fall asleep if you stay there any longer,” Soonyoung says.

“And we  _ cannot _ have that now, can we?” Chan chirps.

Seungkwan has nothing to say. He takes Chan’s hand when it’s offered to him. Soonyoung doesn’t let go of Seungkwan’s shoulders even when he stands.

They’re an awkward unit as they make their way over to the bathroom, connected in strange places but unwilling to let go. It’s when they arrive at the bathroom that they exchange equally uncertain looks.

“I’ll go first,” Chan offers. Because entering this isolated dimension at the same time is not an option and Chan seems to be the one in control at the moment.

He turns to Soonyoung.

“Let me know if you need help with anything, okay?” he says, and Soonyoung nods.

They all exchange looks one last time before Chan steps into the bathroom and closes the door behind him. Entering the room envelops him in silence, fills his ears with cotton, locks his joints in place.

Seungkwan’s lips under his thumb. Soonyoung’s cheek against his palm. Their heartbeats drumming thunderously under his touch.

These sensations haunt him as he walks through the steps of his nightly routine and follow him as he trudges off to dreamland.


	4. i surrender my devotion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can u believe the longest chapter is the one with all the smut LMAO

Somehow, this all got out of hand, and as the oldest, Soonyoung should have kept everything in check. But, he supposes, there are only so many things he has control over—and who is he to fight against chance?

There are dreams. Dreams aren’t unusual; Soonyoung recognizes that his members are beautiful and that hormones play a starring role when it comes to things like this. He dreams of fans, of concert-goers, of handsome strangers he sees in the street. That’s not what gets out of hand.

What gets out of hand is his ability to control himself. Soonyoung has always been a little handsy, but it’s a shared trait in the group. It’s an easy way to show affection and Soonyoung loves each of the members in their own way.

But when Chan rests his head on Soonyoung’s lap, Soonyoung thinks of how easy it would be to guide Chan’s head elsewhere. When Seungkwan gets in his face, Soonyoung thinks of how easy it would be to grab his round cheeks and kiss him.

He’s had a few close calls. It doesn’t help that he doesn’t have a very strong will in the first place.

The hum of the computer in front of him blankets the room in tingly static. Millions of tiny, heated sprites jump over his skin, under his clothes, buzzing in his ears.

He’s the only one in this computer lab but he’s on the edge of his seat regardless, ready to run if need be.

It’s the posture of a guilty man. And maybe he should be ashamed, looping through this recording of the Good To Me choreo to watch Chan grind his hips against the floor over and over. To watch Seungkwan throw his arms over his head in a gesture that intimates an intimate act Soonyoung is all too eager to indulge in.

His cock is already standing at attention in his pants, hot against his thigh, and Soonyoung wonders if he can get away with jerking off in here. He thinks he probably could. The door to this room doesn’t have a lock, but the nearest washroom is also an option.

It’s not really the act of masturbating that has his back stiff with apprehension. They’re a group of thirteen boys who have been with each other through the late stages of puberty; they’ve had more than enough run-ins with jerking off that it’s a non-issue by now.

But it’s a little incriminating to have your hand on your dick and your friend performing sexy choreo in front of you, isn’t it?

Giving in to this, in his waking hours, a conscious choice, might be dangerous. It might bring to life something he’s barely been able to keep under wraps; who knows how his self-control might waver were he to finally give into this hunger? Would he develop a taste for it?

He has often heard the term greedy spoken in his direction. So, maybe, he should have expected this.

Soonyoung wets his lips. Without thinking, he plays the video clip from the beginning, and his eyes are immediately drawn to Chan’s movements, his powerful, tightly controlled body moving across the floor.

What Soonyoung would give to have that body moving over his own…

His phone buzzes violently on the table and Soonyoung smashes his knee against the table. At least that’s a physical distraction from his other physical problem.

[Jihoon]: yo what the fuck is taking you so long  
[Jihoon]: everything going ok?

Soonyoung rubs a hand over his face as he reads the text.

[Jihoon]: do you need a second opinion or something? i can go over there if you want  
[Jihoon]: or i can send chan if you want idk  
[Jihoon]: the radio silence is just a little concerning

Soonyoung sits up a little straighter in his seat.

[Soonyoung]: lee jihoon, you’re a genius  
[Soonyoung]: pls tell chan i need him here right now  
[Jihoon]: oh sure  
[Jihoon]: good luck

Okay, it’ll probably take about five minutes for Chan to get from the practice room to this part of the company building. That’s enough time to think of a plan, right? Something better than just whipping out his dick and hoping for the best. Though that might not be so bad as a last resort.

Soonyoung looks at his reflection in a nearby monitor. His hair is limp over his forehead and there are red splotches over his cheeks; at least his skin is dewy otherwise.

Ah, fuck it. Fussing about his appearance is just a waste of time. Chan has had all these years to develop a taste for him, sweats and acne scars and small eyes and all.

What he needs to focus on is his proposition. Naturally, he has to include Seungkwan somehow. He’s been part of this for some time now—but maybe Chan can help him figure out a plan for that. He needs to focus on laying out the plan in the first place.

Maybe whipping out his dick is the only thing he’ll have time to do.

It’s too soon when he hears a knock on the door.

“Hyung?” Chan calls. “I brought coffee. Can you open the door?”

Soonyoung gets to his feet. He takes a deep breath before turning the door knob.

Chan looks up at Soonyoung with concern as soon as the door swings open. Soonyoung leans his weight on the door as he stares at Chan, sweeps his eyes over the line of his nose, the corners of his eyes, the sharp cut of his cheekbones softened by his unstyled hair in need of a root touch-up.

“Is everything okay?” Chan asks.

Soonyoung takes the tray of coffee from Chan’s hands and places it on the nearest surface. Chan steps into the room, and as he’s closing the door behind him, Soonyoung crowds him against the door. Chan’s back hits the door with a muted thud.

“Hyung?” Chan asks very quietly, just barely an audible breath.

This isn’t quite whipping out his dick; it’s a more PG-13 version of the act. Soonyoung braces his weight against the wall with one hand and cups Chan’s face with the other.

He takes a deep breath and meets Chan’s eye. Chan looks up at him, anticipatory, heartbeat rapid against Soonyoung’s wrist.

Soonyoung kisses him. At first, Chan stiffens, and Soonyoung hopes it’s just surprise. His suspicion is confirmed when Chan melts and kisses him back, leaning into him on his toes, moulding his body to Soonyoung’s.

Soonyoung isn’t sure what he was expecting. He just saw Chan and let his instincts take over. He certainly wasn’t expecting Chan to be this good at kissing; when Chan licks at the seal of Soonyoung’s lips, Soonyoung lets out a surprised moan and lets him in.

A growl vibrates through the depths of Soonyoung’s chest as his hunger surges forth. Soonyoung presses Chan against the door, sealing their bodies together, chest to chest, hips to hips, thighs tangling together. Closer, closer, that’s all he wants, so close he can feel every inch of Chan against him, close enough to feel Chan’s heartbeat and the rush of blood through his veins.

Soonyoung’s erection comes back as desperation burns hotly through his blood. He presses it against the ridge of Chan’s pelvis and groans at the friction. Closer, closer, Soonyoung’s desperation pleads, knowing nothing more than the tingly hot pleasure of Chan pressing against him in all the right places.

Chan thrusts back against Soonyoung’s thigh and the sensation burns right through him, envelops him in flame, and his desperation keens at the thought of rutting against Chan until they both come.

Again, his phone buzzes violently on the table, and both Soonyoung and Chan jump to attention.

Chan snaps his eyes open and looks up at Soonyoung. His breath stutters in his chest and Soonyoung can feel every twitch of muscle and bone; it just makes him hunger for more, to get closer, closer.

Chan clears his throat. He shifts his weight so his dick isn’t so tightly pressed against Soonyoung’s thigh.

“Um,” Chan says, voice scratchy, husky, ghosting over Soonyoung’s exposed nerves. He glances over Soonyoung’s shoulder. “That’s not important, is it?”

Soonyoung shakes his head. He’s still trying to catch his breath. Chan’s body heat is dizzying and Soonyoung wants nothing more than to devour Chan where he stands.

His deep breaths help clear some of the fog of arousal dissipate from his brain. He supposes that, at the end of the day, it really won’t take much to reduce him to an animal that knows only hunger and pleasure.

Chan huffs a sigh and lets his head roll back on his shoulders to rest against the door.

“Was that all just an elaborate ruse to make out with me in here?” Chan asks, a laugh on his breath.

“You’re calling that elaborate?”

Chan snorts. “Well, it’s more complicated than asking me to your room and locking the door, so yeah. I guess I’m calling it elaborate,” Chan retorts.

Soonyoung taps the top of Chan’s dick through his pants and delights at the way Chan jerks back in surprise.

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” Chan groans. It sounds pained yet aroused.

“I wish I knew,” Soonyoung sighs.

With much reluctance, Soonyoung extricates himself from Chan’s body. The sudden cold rolls through him and he seeks refuge in his old chair.

Chan follows him and stands before him, arms crossed and dick visible against the front of his pants.

“Don’t tell me you called me over here just to give me blue balls,” Chan says. The words carry an annoyed tone but his expression is relaxed, amused. Expectant like Soonyoung has pleasantly surprised him and now he’s curious about what comes next.

“Look, I’m as eager to come as you are, trust me,” Soonyoung replies, “but I have to be the adult here—”

“Yeah, by trapping me in the computer lab and dry humping me—”

“Hey, I’m the one talking here,” Soonyoung snaps.

Chan’s expression tightens. “Alright,” he says slowly. “It better be good.”

Soonyoung lifts an eyebrow. “Or else what?” he asks.

“You’ll see,” Chan mutters.

Soonyoung can’t help the shiver that runs down his spine.

“I see why Seungkwan is so obsessed with fighting with you,” Soonyoung states. “You’re hot when you’re mad.”

The lingering blush in Chan’s cheeks darkens. Chan tires of standing and settles in the nearest chair. He drags it over to Soonyoung’s and throws his legs over the top of Soonyoung’s thighs.

Soonyoung grabs the leg closest to him and rubs a hand over it. The muscle beneath his touch is firm and weighty; the mere proximity makes his dick twitch, but he should try not to let it direct his actions. For now.

“And that’s the real reason I called you in here,” Soonyoung says.

“Wait,” Chan says. He puts a hand on top of Soonyoung’s. “That’s distracting,” he tells Soonyoung. “If you’re not gonna follow through with what you started, don’t make me hornier than I already am.”

Soonyoung snorts a laugh.

“Okay, that’s fair,” Soonyoung says. He lets his hand take an innocuous perch on Chan’s knee.

“As I was saying,” he continues, “the real reason I called you in here was Seungkwan.”

“I think I’m getting some mixed signals here,” Chan tells him, “but I’m listening.”

Soonyoung laughs sheepishly. “I know; I’m still trying to make sense of it myself, but I thought you could help me,” he says. “Since two heads are better than one—you know.”

Chan leans back in his chair and gestures with his hands as he speaks: “So you called me here to help you think of a plan to, what, fuck Seungkwan? By rubbing your dick against me?”

Soonyoung is quiet for a moment. Eventually, he sighs and nods.

“I hate that you had to put it that way,” he says, “but yes?”

“You don’t sound very sure of yourself.”

“I’m not,” Soonyoung replies, “but I was hoping seeing you would help me determine what I want.”

Chan hums. “So,” he says, “what do you want, hyung?”

“You,” Soonyoung says immediately, firmly.

A moment of hesitation like looking down at a chasm before leaping. Then, with more confidence than Soonyoung could muster himself, Chan asks, “And Seungkwan, too?”

Soonyoung nods. Too breathless to speak.

Chan lets out a low breath. He sinks further in his chair, until the back of his head hits the backrest.

“You made the right choice,” Chan states, “coming to me first.” He sounds jaded, somehow.

“Unfortunately,” Soonyoung says because he can’t help himself, “without any coming.”

Chan snorts.

“The, um—the thrusting wasn’t exactly planned,” Soonyoung says. Still can’t help himself. “But I may have gotten myself worked up beforehand, so I got a little… out of control.”

Chan gives Soonyoung a questioning look. “Were you watching porn in here?” he asks.

Soonyoung feels a blush rise to his face. “Do you really want to know?” he asks in response.

“Now you really have to tell me.”

Soonyoung looks down at the legs in his lap, settled next to his dying erection.

“I was watching the Good To Me choreo like I was supposed to,” he says, and though he wants to sound defensive he sounds more defeated than anything. “But some… things caught my interest.”

“My thing?” Chan asks, a grin stretched on his face from ear to ear.

“Yes, Chan,” Soonyoung sighs. “Your thing.”

Chan throws his head back and lets out a hearty laugh. The sound echoes throughout the room, washing away the jittery, staticky tension that had built up in Soonyoung’s ears.

“Mm, I see,” Chan says, smugness so palpable Soonyoung can almost taste it. Soonyoung thinks he can guess what flavour it might carry, recalling how Chan’s mouth tasted, and his tongue tingles.

Soonyoung wets his lips and Chan hums, contemplative.

“I guess it depends on what it is you want to accomplish here,” Chan says slowly, gears whirring in his head, “but let’s—I think for now, it might be best to stick with the short term.”

Chan looks up and meets Soonyoung’s gaze. His eyes are dark and hot, hot enough to bend any man’s will and shape it to his desires, and Soonyoung feels his nerves sing with anticipation.

Then, Chan shrugs, and he says, “So really—nothing wrong with calling him to your room and locking the door.”

It takes some effort for Soonyoung to suppress the urge to bury his face in his hands. Instead, his face is buried in a deep red blush. Chan continues to hold his gaze, unflinching.

“Seriously,” Chan continues. “Seungkwan, he—he’s just looking for a clear-cut signal. And if he’s not ready, then he’ll tell you. But I think he’s just waiting for a sign from—from you. From us.”

Soonyoung takes a deep breath.

“This is weird,” Soonyoung declares.

Chan gives him a wry smile. “I know,” he replies. “But what good could have come from you jacking off to us dancing, anyway? You’re like some hormonal fan, hyung.”

“Who’s to say I’m not?” Soonyoung asks. “I might as well be. A really lucky fan at that.”

Chan smiles and stands and approaches his hyung. He presses his knees to Soonyoung’s and his body heat immediately lights a flame in Soonyoung’s stomach. God, he’s so easy—so desperate. But maybe that’s not such a bad thing, finally letting go.

“That’s sweet, hyung,” Chan murmurs. “So cute.”

Soonyoung tilts his head up towards Chan and is rewarded for his submission: Chan presses forward, taking Soonyoung’s jaw against his palm, and kisses Soonyoung with an intensity that echoes the desperation clamouring in Soonyoung’s stomach. In turn, Soonyoung lifts his hands to clutch at Chan’s shirt, his lifeline as he falls down this deep chasm.

Chan has Soonyoung as flat against the chair as humanly possible before he finally releases him from his clutches. An animal coaxed into complete pliability.

As Soonyoung’s senses return to him, Chan cards his fingers through Soonyoung’s hair. He brings Soonyoung’s head to his chest and holds him.

A profound feeling of security, of all things, settles over Soonyoung’s shoulders, immerses him.

“Okay,” Chan says with a note of finality, on the end of a deep breath. He presses a wet kiss to the top of Soonyoung’s head before finally letting go of him. “Okay. I have an idea—but it involves desecrating the practice room.”

Soonyoung lifts his head and an eyebrow. “That place is sacred,” he replies, the beginnings of a smile on his face, “but this type of—say, celebration, will only improve the place. Infuse it with good memories, you know. Good energy.”

Chan’s response is a cross between a laugh and a snort.

“I’d say you were full of shit if I didn’t agree,” Chan says.

“Oh, I’m full of shit,” Soonyoung tells him, “and you might find out first hand.”

Chan’s face contorts in disgust. “I know what you’re saying,” Chan says, “and, like, it’s part of the territory, but _god_ I wish you hadn’t put it that way.”

Soonyoung grins. “You’ve seen worse states of me, I’m sure,” he says.

With a sigh, Chan shrugs. “Yeah, probably,” he replies. “The details of the dirty parts, literally and figuratively, can come later. Let me tell you what I think we should do.”

Chan is smart. And honestly, so is Seungkwan—both of them moreso than Soonyoung could manage. It’s not a bad thing. Intelligence is a gift that takes great effort to groom.

Soonyoung hopes this will be enough to get Seungkwan on their team.

 

* * *

 

Seungkwan has decided that he needs to act. Everything he’s gained up until this point in time has been obtained through sheer stubbornness—it’s one of his strongest weapons, after all. So why act any different with this?

If things don’t work out, then they don’t. If some damage is done, then it will be repaired. Their working relationship is just as important as their personal one—depending on whom you ask, it might be moreso—and Seungkwan knows that Chan and Soonyoung are reasonable people.

His inexperience is to blame. But it’s not like he has anyone to turn to for advice. He just needs to trust his gut—even if that’s a little bit scary.

Okay, it’s really scary. He never expected to be in this situation, one where his heart started to beat fast when another man put his hands on his waist, his chest, his neck. To think that this is the way he’d stray from the norm—well. It’s been stressful.

But Seungkwan also knows to follow his heart to be truly satisfied with life.

He’s done stalling. It feels like his entire life has come to a standstill because of this. Even after winning the Rookie Entertainer award, he found himself craving recognition from Chan and Soonyoung the most. Stupid, stupid, stupid. But it happened anyway. And while he got it in the end, it felt empty, somehow. Like he wanted something else he didn’t know he could ask for despite wanting it so fucking badly.

So, obviously, that was a sign. That was a sign he needed to fucking do something about this back and forth, this horribly tense string he’s been hanging from for so long.

Another sign happened to come to him at the expense of his ass. On his way to the company building, he’d slipped on ice and landed in a pile of snow that soaked him from head to toe. Naturally, he’d have to get dressed.

 

[Seungkwan]: chan-ah your hyung needs a favour  
[Chan]: you ok?  
[Seungkwan]: two inches away from a bruised tailbone, but i think my ass will recover  
[Chan]: thank god you’ve got so much cushioning  
[Seungkwan]: i did not text you to receive this abuse!!!!!!  
[Seungkwan]: do you want to help me or not????  
[Chan]: lmao of course hyung  
[Chan]: anything for you  
[Seungkwan]: can you get me a change of clothes? anything from my room is fine. i just want to be dry and warm asap  
[Chan]: can do hyung  
[Seungkwan]: meet me at the company building then

 

Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

The showers in the company building are well-kept, although they aren’t very big. There’s one bench between two rows of showers and a few cubicles for changing. Seungkwan figured it was built this way because they live nearby and therefore don’t need to be staying so long that they can’t shower. Either that, or budgeting. It’s hard to tell with company management.

The walls are insulated to regulate heating for the showers, so Seungkwan doesn’t hear Chan’s approach. He hears Chan’s footsteps only once he arrives in the doorway, the sound coming through as clean clicks against tile that contrast the messy, uneven beat of Seungkwan’s heart.

Chan steps into the room and makes sure to close the door behind him. Seungkwan’s heartbeat picks up to a deafening roar.

“Hey,” Chan says, voice echoing faintly in the empty room. It is barely loud enough to be heard over Seungkwan’s heartbeat. “I also brought a towel, just in case. Fuck—you’re really soaked, huh?”

His footsteps speed up as he approaches to examine Seungkwan in detail. There’s already a flush rising to Seungkwan’s cheeks as he sits under the intensity of Chan’s gaze. Chan’s eyes sweep over the mop of Seungkwan’s hair to the heavy creases in his clothes.

Chan takes a seat next to him and begins to unbutton the front of Seungkwan’s cardigan.

“H-Hey,” Seungkwan says, and it comes out much too weak, something like a kitten’s mewl. “Wh-What do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting you out of these clothes, obviously,” Chan replies. He’s too confident considering he’s undressing his hyung. It’s almost rude, really. “Since you don’t seem in a hurry to do it, I assume your hands are too frozen to do anything.”

Seungkwan swallows, trying to wet his throat.

“You’d do the same if I were in your position,” Chan adds softly. It’s too soft. His hands are too warm as well. Everything is too much when it comes to Lee Chan, truthfully.

Quiet settles between them as Chan helps Seungkwan out of his layers. First, the cardigan, then another buttoned shirt underneath it. The care with which he handles the buttons is slow and thorough; Seungkwan’s deepening blush is starting to thaw his bones in the meantime.

When Chan pushes the shirt off Seungkwan’s shoulders, he gathers it in his arms and looks up at Seungkwan. Their height difference is small, but it’s always helped Seungkwan feel like the hyung between the two of them, despite the way Chan treats him sometimes. But now, being on the other side of Chan’s stare, Seungkwan feels so, so small.

Chan rolls the shirt into a ball and sets it on the other side of the bench. When he turns again, he’s holding the pile of clothes he brought into the room with him earlier.

“Here,” he says. “You can go and finish up in a cubicle. If you need anything else, just—”

Seungkwan interrupts him by putting a firm hand on the top of the pile. He pushes it down into Chan’s lap, leaning forward with the motion.

“Chan,” Seungkwan says. His voice cracks on the short syllable, somehow, and it’s enough to break his confidence.

He lowers his head and averts his eyes, but he keeps his hand on Chan’s lap.

“Chan,” Seungkwan says again, “if—if you don’t mind, I think—I think I’d, um, I’d like it if you… If you continued. Like that. Helping me like that.”

Chan stares at him for a moment. He must think Seungkwan is crazy. He’s probably thinking about how long it’ll take to run out of the room.

Then, Chan cracks a small smile. He gently removes Seungkwan’s hand from the pile of clothes and replaces the clothes on the other side of the bench.

“Of course, hyung,” Chan tells him softly.

Chan reaches up to push some of Seungkwan’s hair out of his face. Seungkwan holds Chan’s gaze, his heart fluttering in his chest, skin covered in goosebumps. He feels so vulnerable. But Chan looks at him and touches him like he’s something precious, like a weighty, glimmering diamond.

“I’ll need you to cooperate with me for the next part, then,” Chan says.

Seungkwan furrows his brow, but when Chan’s fingers land on the button on his fly, realization dawns on him.

Chan undoes the button. Next, the zipper. The sound of the teeth clicking fills the room like sparks flying.

When Chan sinks his thumbs into the waistband of Seungkwan’s jeans, he looks up at Seungkwan. Again, Seungkwan tries to wet his parched throat and swallows.

Seungkwan lifts his hips, following the movement of Chan’s hands. He shudders when Chan’s skin brushes over his thighs. Blood starts to travel southward. It’s amazing, he thinks, considering how much blood must be sitting in his face.

Chan leaves his pants above his knees. Instead of pulling them downwards, he reaches for Seungkwan’s legs. He pulls them up into his lap and takes off Seungkwan’s indoor shoes. Then, he peels off Seungkwan’s damp socks.

With his legs positioned like this, Seungkwan’s pants come off easily. Chan pulls them by the cuffs, one leg, then the next.

“I hope you’re not hypothermic by now,” Chan says suddenly. His words hit the atmosphere like aimed projectiles and Seungkwan flinches.

Chan responds immediately, catching Seungkwan by the side of his neck. His palm is hot against Seungkwan’s shivering skin.

“Are you okay?” Chan asks. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Seungkwan blinks at him. His teeth are chattering just slightly; it turns out his face is the only part of him that’s warm after all.

A small smile pulls at Chan’s mouth.

“Speechless, huh,” he murmurs. “It’s not as good of a look on you as I’d thought it’d be.”

He strokes Seungkwan’s cheek.

“Neither is blue skin,” he adds.

“G-Guess that’s a look the stylists won’t need to worry about,” Seungkwan stutters, mainly because he can’t help himself.

Chan barks a laugh.

“Everything else looks good, though,” Chan tells him, and he’s smirking.

“Even the wet boxers?” Seungkwan asks. Still can’t help himself.

“Oh, especially those,” Chan replies. “But if you want me to help you get those off, I’m game.”

For a second, all Seungkwan can hear is the sound of his heart pounding in his chest. “I-I-I hope you know what you’re implying, Lee Chan,” he stammers.

Seungkwan feels his eyes grow to the size of dinner plates. But he just can’t help it. Chan sitting in front of him, one hand on his neck and the other on his thigh, reduces him to a helpless mess.

But it really isn’t so bad.

The hand on Seungkwan’s thigh slides up to the edge of his boxers. Chan plays with the hem. Seungkwan feels his dick react immediately.

“I do,” Chan says simply. He tilts his head to the side. “But if you want to start above the belt, that makes sense to me, too.”

Seungkwan can’t decide if he wants to scream or if he wants to laugh. Or cry. Or some combination of all three.

“How can you be so fucking calm about all this?” Seungkwan exclaims. “Don’t you—isn’t this weird for you?”

Chan smiles. He grins rather wolfishly, actually.

“Well, you haven’t been exactly subtle about your feelings for me, Boo Seungkwan,” Chan replies. “Everything else is just circumstance. If things get complicated, we can deal with them when we need to. Right now, I’ve got you nearly naked in front of me. It would be absolutely stupid of me to waste this opportunity, don’t you think?”

Seungkwan stares at him, speechless.

That doesn’t last long. “What do you mean, my ‘feelings’?” Seungkwan asks hotly. “What fucking feelings?”

Chan shrugs. “I don’t know. Do you want me to say attraction? Because you do tell me you love me on a pretty regular basis,” he says. “Is that really what you want to talk about right now? Because you’re still shivering and I can think of a good way to warm you up.”

Seungkwan inhales sharply as if Chan’s words had hit him like a slap to the face. They leave him bewildered as if Chan had slapped him.

But Chan doesn’t slap him. He chuckles and pets Seungkwan’s cheek and neck and then he’s descending upon Seungkwan’s lips like he has every right to do so.

And maybe he does. Seungkwan certainly won’t stop him.

It’s Seungkwan’s first kiss and he’s lost. Lost in sensation, lost in his frantic thoughts, and, most of all, lost in Chan’s touch. Chan presses his lips against Seungkwan’s firmly, moves them in a way Seungkwan had no idea was possible. Chan snatches whatever breath remains in Seungkwan’s lungs and it’s not a huge loss, really.

Chan drags a hand down Seungkwan’s chest. He smooths down the skin there and his touch covers Seungkwan in flame. It’s almost a relief to let himself burn in Chan’s wake.

When Chan plays with one of Seungkwan’s nipples, Seungkwan lets out such a loud moan that it echoes in the room. Seungkwan pulls away immediately afterwards, lips clamped shut.

Chan grins and backs off. He flattens his hand against Seungkwan’s chest and drums his fingertips against Seungkwan’s collarbone.

“It’s okay,” Chan murmurs to him. “You sounded sexy.”

Seungkwan shoots him a disbelieving look. Chan laughs and embarrassment burns in Seungkwan’s gut.

“Here,” Chan says lowly. He takes one of Seungkwan’s hands and guides it down, down, until Seungkwan’s palm is resting over the rise of Chan’s sweats.

“Oh,” is all Seungkwan can say.

He looks up and takes a good look at Chan. Chan’s eyes curve with the smile on his face, but there’s a quirk to his brow that tells Seungkwan that maybe he isn’t as sure of himself as Seungkwan thinks. Chan’s cheeks hold the same flush that Seungkwan’s must have and his chest rises and falls at a pace similar to that of Seungkwan’s.

Chan is just as affected as Seungkwan. Part of Seungkwan can barely believe it, but the part of Seungkwan that’s trying to memorize the shape of Chan’s hardening cock under his hand is just relieved.

“Um,” Seungkwan says as he drops his eyes to Chan’s lap, “can I—?”

Chan chuckles. “You can do anything as long as you have good intentions,” he replies.

Maybe Seungkwan’s a little too eager to pull Chan’s dick out of his pants, but he can’t feel embarrassed about it now. Now, all he feels is arousal unfurling in his pelvis, tendrils of flame that climb up to his ribs to his brain, consuming any rational thought in their path.

Chan’s cock is hot in Seungkwan’s hand. Seungkwan runs his thumb over the ridge of the head and Chan groans behind closed lips. His first instinct is to touch Chan in the places he likes to touch himself, with the goal of making Chan come as soon as possible—and it’s hard to explain why, really, besides just wanting to make Chan feel good, like, right now.

Moans slip from Chan’s mouth like a melody and Seungkwan quickly finds himself addicted. Chan’s erection grows harder and thicker in Seungkwan’s hand and the sensation is dizzying; feeling his arousal under Seungkwan’s complete control is intoxicating unlike any substance Seungkwan has had before.

“Hyung,” Chan pants. He squirms under Seungkwan’s grip and puts both hands on Seungkwan’s hands to steady himself. “Hyung, ah—hold on a sec.”

His voice cuts through the haze in Seungkwan’s brain with ease: Seungkwan immediately stills his hand and looks up.

“Oh, uh—was that too much? Was I out of line? I—”

“Calm down, hyung,” Chan tells him. He’s smiling. “You’re doing just fine. But I’m the one trying to warm you up, remember?”

Seungkwan furrows his brow. He feels plenty warm now and the dick in his hand is warm enough to keep him comfy, he thinks.

Chan shakes his head and shifts his weight so that he’s straddling the bench. He then brings Seungkwan’s legs over each of his thighs and drags Seungkwan closer by the back of his knees.

It’s an impressive display of strength that knocks the breath straight out of Seungkwan’s throat. This boy is truly dangerous to his health.

Now it’s Seungkwan’s turn to grab at Chan’s shoulders. Before Seungkwan can say anything in protest, Chan crushes their lips together. His hunger is validating, which is sexy in its own right.

When Chan slips his hand into Seungkwan’s boxers, Seungkwan tenses and holds his breath. But soon enough, the air in his lungs starts to fall out of him erratically as Chan coaxes his erection to full hardness.

“Relax,” Chan whispers into Seungkwan’s ear. His breath is hot against Seungkwan’s ear, and the proximity of his voice narrows down Seungkwan’s focus even further: all he knows is Chan’s touch, Chan’s voice, Chan’s blistering heat.

It doesn’t take long for Seungkwan’s orgasm to reach its peak. It crashes against him in waves, steals his breath like water rushing past his ears, envelops him in sensation that leaves him gasping. Seungkwan squeezes his eyes shut against the relentless current and Chan holds him through it, murmurs sweet nothings in his ears that keep Seungkwan tethered to the shore.

Chan kisses him and the shape of his lips brings Seungkwan back to reality. It hasn’t been long enough for Seungkwan to have properly learned how to kiss him back, but dammit, Seungkwan really tries. He tries, despite his gasping breath and hammering heart.

Eventually, Chan backs off to let him breathe, content to nuzzle his neck and leave the occasional kiss in his wake.

“Chan,” Seungkwan says. He sounds choked up. Did he cry? Maybe just a little.

Chan leans back and catches Seungkwan’s eye. His face is flushed and his eyes are so big this close up.

“I’m here,” Chan replies. He reaches up—Seungkwan glances over to make sure it’s his clean hand—and brushes some of Seungkwan’s hair out of his face. “I’m here. How are you doing?”

Seungkwan takes a shuddering breath. Then, he grins, unable to contain the radiant happiness in his chest.

“So fucking good,” he says. “I swear I’m still feeling it. Um—” He breaks his smile to wet his lips. “That was great, but I’d be even better if I—I could, you know. Have a go at it.”

Chan laughs. “Give me a second,” Chan replies. He nudges Seungkwan’s legs away from his own before standing. He walks over to the nearest shower and runs water over his hand.

Seungkwan watches him the whole time, observing his stride, analyzing his posture. Chan seems smug. But it’s a good look on him. So is the way his sweats hang on his half-hard dick, and the swell of his ass.

Seungkwan sighs and channels the energy of one of their fans. God, he’s a lucky man.

A knock comes to the door and Seungkwan feels his heart stop in his chest.

“Holy _shit,”_ Seungkwan hisses. He scrambles to snatch the clothes on the bench so he can save his modesty, but then it hits him: they’re in a shower room. Of course he’s gonna be in some state of undress. This mystery person behind the door should know that.

In fact, it’s a little weird that the person knocked in the first place. Or did Chan lock the door? That’s gonna get them some questions. Good lord, they’re gonna get caught. Panic rises in Seungkwan’s chest again and he brings whatever’s closest to him up to his chest.

The door opens just enough to allow one person to enter the room. And that one person is Kwon Soonyoung.

Seungkwan feels the tension bleed from his muscles. The relief is unexpected but not unwelcome. It’s just Soonyoung. Knowing that it’s him makes Seungkwan feel less like he’s been caught in the act.

Because he wasn’t. Unless Chan decides to open his big mouth.

Thinking about Chan’s big mouth makes Seungkwan’s sensitive dick twitch and he feels his cheeks heat up. Why does being around Chan reduce Seungkwan to some horny school boy?

“Hey,” Soonyoung calls. Seungkwan tries to keep a straight face despite the blush. “I heard you had an accident. Are you okay?”

Seungkwan lifts an eyebrow, immediately on the defensive. “And who told you that?” he asks.

Soonyoung glances at Chan. Chan doesn’t turn to look at him. In fact, he’s taking his time washing his hands. Seungkwan’s stomach begins to curl into knots.

“That guy did,” Soonyoung says. “I don’t see why you wouldn’t ask your hyung to take care of you. I’m hurt, Seungkwannie.”

Before Seungkwan can think of a response, Chan laughs.

“Obviously, it’s because I’m more capable than you, hyung,” Chan retorts.

Soonyoung pouts and stalks over to where Chan is standing. He leans his weight on his hand, positioned above his and Chan’s heads on the wall, and crowds Chan’s space.

“You wanna say that to my face?” Soonyoung challenges him.

Chan puts on that wolfish grin again and takes a step into Soonyoung’s personal bubble. He tilts his chin upwards, easily compensating for their slight height difference, and brushes his thumb over the line of Soonyoung’s jaw.

“I’m more capable than you,” Chan says, “hyung.”

This is obviously some sort of show. There’s no way Soonyoung would let that slip past him. But is this meant for Seungkwan? Either way, Seungkwan’s heart is beating fast in his chest again. The thrill is similar to when Chan holds him in his strong grip, or when it was Seungkwan who was on the other end of that stare.

It’s strange. In no way is Seungkwan directly involved here, and yet he feels like he’s a part of the scene.

Soonyoung plants his foot between one of Chan’s and presses him against the wall, kissing him. And Chan just lets him.

Should Seungkwan say something? He thought this was going to be about him, but maybe he was wrong. Clearly Chan and Soonyoung have something going on between them. Is this any of his business? Should he leave?

When Chan pulls away, he looks over Soonyoung’s shoulder to meet Seungkwan's gaze.

“I don't know what you're trying to prove to me, hyung,” Chan says without looking at Soonyoung, “when your adorable and injured dongsaeng is over there.”

“Adorable?” Seungkwan squeaks.

Soonyoung looks over his shoulder. With both of their gazes on him, Seungkwan feels his chest tighten. There's no way his dick can recover this fast, but it sure wants to.

“I hate it when you're right,” Soonyoung says to Chan.

He takes a step back. Chan follows after him, lingers in his space, but he doesn't keep him.

Soonyoung walks over to the bench and sits in front of Seungkwan.

“Where does it hurt, Seungkwannie?” he asks, voice low and soft with sincerity.

He leans forward and puts a gentle hand on Seungkwan’s knee. The touch is slow, testing the waters; and Seungkwan allows it.

“Um,” Seungkwan mutters quietly, just to steel himself. He glances over at Chan, who is leaning against the shower wall with his arms crossed over his chest. His interest is still highly visible through his pants and it does nothing to calm Seungkwan’s racing heart.

Seungkwan braces his weight on one leg and turns his back to Soonyoung.

“H-Here,” Seungkwan says. He reaches over and lifts one leg of his boxers. He can still feel the heat of the bruise when his fingers graze over it; he flinches. “I have no idea how bad it is, but it feels not so great.”

Soonyoung gasps. It sounds a little exaggerated—but, then again, a lot of the things Soonyoung says sound a bit exaggerated. Sometimes to the extent where Seungkwan isn’t sure if he’s being genuine or not. Usually, though, it’s fine to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Even Chan hisses quietly at the reveal. Seungkwan blushes, knowing both of them are staring at his ass.

“You sure you don’t want to ice it or something?” Soonyoung asks.

“Seeing as I fell on ice, I’m sure you can understand that I’m not rushing to see it again any time soon,” Seungkwan deadpans. “I was freezing up until a moment ago.”

“Oh?” Soonyoung adjusts his weight so that he’s holding Seungkwan’s shoulder instead; his approach isn’t threatening, much to Seungkwan’s surprise. “So what was your cure for the cold? You’re not exactly bundled up.”

This is a trap. Seungkwan’s brow furrows.

“I feel like you know the answer to this question,” Seungkwan replies slowly. He looks over to Chan. “You,” he calls out. “Why did you bring him here?”

Chan ducks his head, deliberately avoiding Seungkwan’s gaze. His steps towards the bench are slow; his footsteps clack against the tile, each sound like pins through Seungkwan’s body that hold him in place.

Chan takes a seat on Seungkwan’s other side. He meets Seungkwan’s eyes before moving on to look at Soonyoung.

“I wanted to be here,” Soonyoung says. He holds Chan’s gaze before looking over at Seungkwan again. “I guess it was just a coincidence that you happened to be in, uh, the state of undress that you’re in now.”

“This can’t be coincidence,” Seungkwan says. He presses his hands into his lap; he can’t trust himself to let them loose, not right now. “No, not when—not when it was _me_ who was supposed to finally be making a move.”

Soonyoung lifts an eyebrow. He looks over at Chan again.

Huffing a breath, Seungkwan moves so that he’s no longer straddling the bench. Now, both Soonyoung and Chan sit at either of his sides.

“You guys know something I don’t,” Seungkwan complains through clenched teeth. “Are you guys—what are you guys planning?”

Chan comes a little closer. His hip hits Seungkwan’s and his body heat is welcome.

“We weren’t planning anything,” Chan says lowly. “At least—not today.” He puts a hand on Seungkwan’s elbow and tugs on it gently. Eventually, he coaxes Seungkwan’s hand out of his lap so he can take it into his own grip.

“I’m curious about what you were planning, Seungkwan,” Chan continues.

Seungkwan stares at the tiled floor. His eyes travel along the crisp lines as he tries to piece together something coherent in his head.

“I… I,” Seungkwan starts. He stops to swallow. “I thought it was finally time that I—do something, you know? About those, um, feelings, that you mentioned earlier. My—my attraction.”

“That bruise doesn’t look planned, though,” Chan replies.

Seungkwan snorts. “Well, no, it wasn’t. But it was pretty convenient,” he says.

Chan grins. “Worked out to my benefit,” he says.

Chan turns and presses his thigh against Seungkwan’s, leaning his weight on his other leg. “We,” he begins, “and by we, I mean Soonyoung-hyung and me, we had plans to, um, maybe propose something to you.”

Seungkwan glances between the two flanked on either side of him.

“I hope you don’t mean marriage,” he says. He holds up his right hand. “I’ve already dedicated myself to a very serious relationship.”

Soonyoung giggles.

“I think you know what we’re thinking of,” Soonyoung says. “You’re smart. So smart it’s a little scary sometimes.”

Seungkwan snorts. He looks down again, uncrosses his legs to cross them again, lets his eyes wander up and down the floor tiles again.

“I think I have an idea,” he murmurs, “but I think I’d like it if—if you said it in, like, concrete terms. Just so that it’s out there.”

“That’s fair,” Soonyoung says.

Soonyoung exhales deeply and leans his weight on his hands. He looks up at the ceiling.

“Well, I don’t know about you two,” he starts, “but I’ve been—well, I don’t know. Thinking some things about you that maybe a hyung shouldn’t think about his two dongsaengs.”

Seungkwan’s stomach does a flip.

“Well, maybe I’ve been thinking some things a guy shouldn’t be thinking about other guys,” Seungkwan mutters.

Chan sighs a big puff of breath that fills the room with its monstrous volume. The sound catches both Seungkwan’s and Soonyoung’s attention, and they turn to look at him with concern.

“Guys, let’s not talk about shoulds and should nots,” Chan says. “There’s—like, okay, I get it. This is gonna be complicated. We work together _and_ there’s three of us.”

“That makes six balls, you know,” Soonyoung points out.

Seungkwan grins. “And six nipples,” he adds.

Chan sighs again, but he’s grinning, too.

“Anyway,” he carries on, “even if it’s gonna be complicated, even if it’s gonna be work, let’s not start it off with negativity, alright?”

Seungkwan catches Chan’s eye. There’s apprehension in the lines of his face, as is to be expected. But he’s really putting himself out there, speaking on wavering breaths, brow furrowed under the weight of his fear.

It’s Seungkwan’s turn to cup Chan’s cheek. God, has he wanted to, wanted to put his hands on this beautiful man the moment he stepped into the room.

“You’re right,” Seungkwan whispers.

All he wants is to hold Chan in this moment. Chan watches him and his throat quivers just slightly.

“I don’t—I can’t speak for both of you,” Chan continues, “but—you know, I don’t know. I want—I want you two, you know? To, to kiss you, and, like, I don’t know…”

He brings up a hand to press Seungkwan’s hand closer to his skin.

“I want to be held like this,” he says quietly, just audible in the scant space between them, “and to hold you two like this.”

Seungkwan runs his thumb over Chan’s cheek. Chan closes his eyes and drops his hand from Seungkwan’s.

Seungkwan turns to look over his shoulder at Soonyoung.

“So let’s hold him then, shall we?” he asks.

Soonyoung grins.

“Let me give you get better kisses first,” he says, and there’s no time for Seungkwan to argue before Soonyoung takes Seungkwan’s face in both hands and presses a wet kiss to his lips.

The gesture starts out with good humour, but Soonyoung spins it into something more sensual. He frames Seungkwan’s hips with his thighs, leaning as close as humanly possible, moving his lips with hunger that draws a moan from Seungkwan’s chest.

Chan comes from behind him, pressing his lips against Seungkwan’s bare shoulder.

“I think it’d be best to keep the injured party as comfortable as possible, hmm?” he murmurs against Seungkwan’s skin. The kisses he presses against Seungkwan’s shoulder are sweet but linger with a heat that makes Seungkwan’s nerves tingle.

“W-Wait,” Seungkwan starts, and the men on either side of him immediately back off. It’s sweet, even if Seungkwan feels their absence leave him bare—literally and figuratively.

“I’ve, um, I’ve already been taken care of!” Seungkwan exclaims. Maybe being loud will give him confidence. It usually works on stage. “So, um, so, I just, I want to give back, you know? G-Give me a chance, to, like—to learn!”

Soonyoung grins and laughs, flopping over onto Seungkwan’s side.

“So cute,” he sighs. He presses his face into Seungkwan’s side and it’s ticklish but Seungkwan doesn’t have the heart to push him off. Not right now, not when it feels like this arrangement is so fragile.

Seungkwan twists his head to meet Chan’s eye.

“I need to return the favour, after all,” he says lowly.

Colour rises to Chan’s face.

“I don’t think I’d mind that,” Chan replies, and his voice just barely breaks at the end of his sentence.

“Are we making Chan the filling of our sandwich?” Soonyoung asks. He stands before anyone can reply and quickly takes a seat behind Chan.

“And the ass man makes his appearance,” Chan says.

Soonyoung grins and squeezes the side of Chan’s ass that comes off the edge of the bench.

“You know it, baby,” Soonyoung replies.

It seems like Soonyoung and Chan are a bit familiar with each other when it comes to activities of this nature. Then again, Soonyoung has _always_ been an ass man—Seungkwan has been subject to his displays of affection as well. Quite often, really.

Seungkwan puts both of his hands on Chan’s chest. Chan looks over at him and Seungkwan can feel the way his muscles and ribs move as Chan holds his breath.

Seungkwan kisses him. He curls his fingers over Chan’s shoulders and kisses Chan with all he’s got; in the end, Chan catches him by the hand and leads him. This time, though, some of the latches have come off, and Seungkwan can feel it: Chan opens him up without the same reservation he held earlier, and Seungkwan’s heart thrills as he’s left at Chan’s mercy.

As Seungkwan and Chan exchange kisses, Seungkwan can feel Soonyoung reacting. He feels the air move as Soonyoung’s hands rove all over Chan’s chest and stomach, pressing his fingerprints into Chan’s body, eventually slipping under his shirt to stimulate his bare skin.

It’s then that Chan’s strong exterior cracks, under the touch of his hyung, affected by his hyung’s hunger. Watching Chan fall to Soonyoung’s gravity is enchanting in its own way, like watching waves roll and crash under the moon’s will, glimmering and glittering and so powerful.

Chan breaks away from Seungkwan’s mouth to gasp and moan. He writhes, caught between two bodies, but what takes Seungkwan’s breath yet again is the way he gazes at Seungkwan’s eyes. So bare, so desperate, so raw, and all of this is at Seungkwan’s hands.

Seungkwan kisses Chan yet again, delighting in the way Chan stays under his mouth despite his regular breaks for air, and drags his hands over Chan’s stomach.

“Touch him,” Soonyoung encourages Seungkwan. He’s breathless, too; Seungkwan looks up to catch his eye and feels his heart lurch in his chest.

The flush on Soonyoung’s face is so vibrant, such brilliant hues of pink and red, framed by his hair lying across his cheeks and forehead in black streaks. He’s a work of art.

“P-Please,” Chan gasps.

Soonyoung sighs, wistful despite the object of his affections being directly in his arms, and turns to kiss Chan. Chan raises his chin to close the distance between them.

For a moment, Seungkwan is at a loss, unable to look away.

For educational purposes.

The way Chan’s mouth opens for Soonyoung so quickly, so easily, is obscene, and the sounds that follow are even more so. Chan’s moans are muffled against Soonyoung’s mouth and his desperation is palpable, sitting sweetly on Seungkwan’s tongue.

Seungkwan wants to see just how desperate he can get.

He reaches into Chan’s pants for a second time and is rewarded with Chan’s full erection. Pre-come has already beaded at the tip and Seungkwan licks his lips at the sight.

Seungkwan spreads it over the head and Chan’s head rolls back onto his shoulders. Soonyoung takes the opportunity to move his mouth over Chan’s neck, grazing his teeth over the flushed skin.

With his heart beating wildly in his chest, Seungkwan moves his hand up and down Chan’s cock, watching Chan’s face for every reaction that follows. He watches for every muscle twitch and listens for every breath caught in his chest or throat and for every one that falls from his mouth as a moan.

When Chan comes, Seungkwan feels his own dick twitching in his boxers. Seungkwan makes sure to milk Chan for all he’s worth, dying of curiosity to see what other noises and faces he’ll make through the sensitivity.

“Seungkwan,” Chan eventually hisses. He throws his head from side to side on Soonyoung’s chest. “Seungkwan, fuck—hyung—”

Seungkwan glances up and sees Soonyoung grinning wickedly over Chan’s shoulder. The expression sends a shiver down Seungkwan’s spine.

Seungkwan lets up and slips his hand away from Chan. He leans forward and presses gentle kisses over his cheeks and lips.

“So pretty,” Seungkwan whispers between kisses. “So pretty for me, Lee Chan.”

Chan gulps down a breath before managing a shaky, “Thank you, hyung.”

Slowly, Chan opens his eyes. The warmth that pours over Seungkwan when that gaze falls upon his own fills his every nook and cranny. His heart has never been so full before.

Soonyoung hoists Chan up against his chest, arms wrapped around Chan’s waist.

“And what about this hyung?” Soonyoung asks. “Don’t I get some love, too?”

“You treat me like your plaything,” Chan mutters, gesturing at the arms around his middle.

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow. “You say that, but it doesn’t really sound much like a complaint,” he points out.

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Okay, kids!” Soonyoung calls. “No more arguing! Only loving hyung now!”

Chan grins at Seungkwan and butterflies beat against Seungkwan’s stomach lining.

Chan turns so that he’s facing Soonyoung, straddling the bench. Seungkwan takes the opportunity to nestle his chin in Chan’s shoulder.

“You’re such a baby,” Chan murmurs to Soonyoung, cupping his face in one hand.

“Guilty as charged,” Soonyoung replies with absolutely no shame. He smiles and pokes his own cheek. “So does that mean you’ll kiss me?”

“Yes, hyung,” Chan says sweetly. “Is there anything else you’d like, while you’re at it?”

The expression that transforms Soonyoung’s face is fierce, heated, hungry. It lasts for a second, contained in the shape of a grin, before it simmers down to something a little more palatable.

“Too many things to count, my darling,” Soonyoung replies. “I’m honoured by your generosity, though.”

“I think we have time for a blowjob, tops,” Chan replies. It’s a little too casual; Soonyoung blushes under Chan’s gaze.

Soonyoung’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows around the thought sitting thickly in his throat.

“W-Well,” he says, clearly caught off guard. The way he went from the predator to the prey in three seconds is incredibly endearing to Seungkwan. “I mean—that sounds a little unfair, seeing as, you know, I’d be the only one, um, on the receiving end, uh, of that, you know.”

“Just for today,” Chan replies.

Seungkwan inhales. “God, you are so brave, Lee Chan,” he comments.

Chan shrugs and sends Seungkwan a look over his shoulder. “It’s just the truth,” he says nonchalantly. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover between the three of us, so.”

“Have you been reading up?” Seungkwan asks. “You seem to be so knowledgeable about all this stuff.”

“Doesn’t it make sense to read about something you’re interested in?”

He’s got a point.

Seungkwan decides he’s better off not asking any more questions.

Chan starts to move his legs so that he’s no longer straddling the bench when Soonyoung catches him by the shoulder.

“A-Are you sure about this?” Soonyoung asks. The hitch in his breath earns him a smile from both Seungkwan and Chan.

Chan slides onto his knees, and just watching him sends Seungkwan’s heart into a frenzy.

“It’s not a big deal,” he reassures them. “You guys will get your turn another time, and then you’ll get what I’m trying to say.”

Again, he’s got a point. Since when was Lee Chan so damn smart?

After Chan positions himself between Soonyoung’s thighs, he looks up at Seungkwan. For all his straight-talking (haha) and confidence, he’s still got a bright blush in his cheeks.

“I still want you to help me out, though, hyung,” Chan tells Seungkwan.

Seungkwan sits at attention. Soonyoung glances over at Seungkwan as well.

He smirks. “Come on; I’m sure you can figure out what I’m getting at,” Chan says.

Seungkwan and Soonyoung exchange looks. It’s different, approaching Soonyoung. And he should expect no different. But the way they fall together, the way their edges meet, feels natural nonetheless, their overlapping lines constructing an easy path to follow.

When they kiss, the earlier urgency is not as present. Soonyoung takes his time to taste Seungkwan, like mulling over a fine wine, or someone trying to figure out if their food is too hot.

It’s almost like Soonyoung is trying to make a good impression. It’s cute.

Seungkwan presses his palm against Soonyoung’s chest. Soonyoung’s heartbeat greets him, a rapid but steady _thump thump,_ and it gives him courage.

It’s okay. They’ll have time to figure this out. And Seungkwan knows Soonyoung, knows their partnership has the foundation to withstand this change. It’s withstood so many years of adjustment; this is not so different.

Soonyoung sighs and gasps when Chan pulls him out of his pants. He buries his face in Seungkwan’s shoulder, muffling moans against his skin, and Seungkwan chances a look down.

Chan’s pink tongue against the red, swollen head of Soonyoung’s erection is a sight to see. His boys are so vibrant; it’s breathtaking.

The meticulousness Chan takes when he traces his tongue over the lines and ridges of Soonyoung’s cock is just so… Chan. Given the new context, Seungkwan expected a new Chan, but it’s comforting to see the same man in this new light.

It's something Seungkwan needs to remember. Yes, this is a new landscape that he needs to navigate, but he’s still with the same men that he loves.

“Ch-Channie,” Soonyoung moans. He clutches at Seungkwan’s arm. “Yes, that’s—oh my god, so good, Channie, so good.”

His voice trails off into stuttering words of praise and Chan eats it up. Time gives him confidence and eventually he closes his mouth over the head.

Soonyoung jerks his hips, but Seungkwan tries to keep him down. Chan looks up and gives Seungkwan an appreciative glance before reestablishing his rhythm.

Once Chan gets a steady pace going, it doesn’t take long for Soonyoung to reach his peak. His voice builds to a sudden boom and Seungkwan clamps his hand over Soonyoung’s mouth. It serves as an effective distraction: Soonyoung calms enough to turn his head and take Seungkwan’s fingers into his mouth. He sucks and bites, gently, and moans through his orgasm.

Seungkwan slowly pulls his hand away so Soonyoung can catch his breath. He turns to Chan, whose cheeks are round with what Seungkwan can only assume is Soonyoung’s come. The watery eyes and puffed cheeks and red, swollen lips are all so cute and hot at the same time, but Seungkwan can’t help but feel a bit bad for him.

Chan stands and cleans up while Seungkwan leaves his hand on the bench to dry.

With a huge puff of breath, Soonyoung flops back on the bench. His head is just inches off the floor. The sound of water running mingles in the air with Soonyoung’s harsh breaths. Seungkwan turns and rubs his hand over Soonyoung’s stomach.

“Come in your mouth, like… sucks,” Chan declares when he wanders back to the bench.

Soonyoung covers his face with his hands. “I’m sorry,” he says.

Chan laughs and sits next to Soonyoung. He joins Seungkwan in rubbing his belly. “No, no, it’s totally fine. It felt so good, to feel you like that, but the texture gets weird very quickly,” he explains.

“Did you swallow?” Seungkwan asks.

Chan’s face turns pink. “W-Well,” he starts, “for some of it, it kinda just—yeah. So yeah. But not all of it.”

“It just yeah?” Seungkwan asks.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

Soonyoung sits up and takes the hands on his belly. He gives them both a firm squeeze as he smiles from ear to ear.

“You guys sound so fucking dumb,” he sighs, dreamy. “I love it.”

He turns to Chan and gives him a series of wet smooches. “And you,” he says, “that was amazing. God, I had no idea that would feel so fucking good, fuck!”

Chan loops his arms around Soonyoung’s waist and pulls him in close. He grabs one of Seungkwan’s hands and pulls him in, too. They’re a warm knot of grabby hands.

Seungkwan clears his throat a bit. “Hyung,” he says, “I think you’ll have a good time, um, giving, as well.”

Soonyoung turns his head. Seungkwan almost flinches; he hadn’t realized they were so close.

“What gave that away?” Soonyoung asks with a sheepish breath on his lips.

“You did enjoy my fingers in your mouth…”

Chan grins. “It was hot,” he comments. “Now, imagine a dick in his mouth.” He hums.

They all take a second to visualize it, heads lying on shoulders, arms crossed and looped around each other.

Eventually, Chan sighs and straightens up.

“We should get going, huh,” he says. “I’m afraid the others will start to come looking for us.”

“We weren’t here that long!” Soonyoung cries. “Don’t exaggerate.”

“I’m sure we can think of something if someone starts asking questions,” Seungkwan adds.

Chan smiles. He nods and moves to stand. He gathers the clothes gathered on one end of the bench and offers them to Seungkwan.

Without thinking twice, Seungkwan hurries to get dressed. It’s only when he pulls on the sweater that he realizes something is off.

Soonyoung grins. “Sneaky boy,” he says. He elbows Chan’s side. “Is this your way of claiming him?”

Chan shrugs, but he’s blushing. “We all swap clothes all the time,” is all he says.

Seungkwan pulls the sleeves over his hands and hugs himself. It’s comfy.

“Thank you,” Seungkwan says. His voice is too soft coming from his throat, floating on flower petals, but he can’t help himself. “Thank you for acting on your hyung’s whim—and for, well. Everything else.”

“Giving you the best orgasm of your life?” Chan replies, grinning.

Seungkwan grins back. “So far,” he says.

Soonyoung scoops him up, hugging Seungkwan close to his chest. “No more getting hurt!” he cries. “Stay healthy this year!”

Seungkwan laughs helplessly. “Hyung,” Seungkwan complains, drawing out the syllable. “Please, if you keep manhandling me like a plaything, I’m just gonna land on my ass again.”

“Not the precious goods!” Chan yells. He reaches forward and cups Seungkwan’s ass.

With all these hands on him, Seungkwan should feel crowded. But he just feels at home. It’s a fitting sensation, all things considered.

They detangle just enough to exit the shower room single file. And, luckily, no one asks any questions when they show up to the practice room.

 

* * *

 

Moments alone become invaluable in ways they can’t begin to describe.

One of Soonyoung’s worst traits is his impatience. Another one of his worst traits is his greed. Mix them together and what’s left is a longing, wanting Soonyoung.

But he doesn’t let it distract him from work. That’s his no-exceptions policy. Let them enjoy their physicality, let them enjoy their hormones, sure, but work comes before any of these dalliances.

Maybe it’s a bit cruel, especially when the relationship is still so new.

But is it that new? They’ve been together for years. This is only a new element to it all.

Soonyoung tries not to consider it much. He’s sure it will come back to haunt him as inspiration for lyrics or choreo, and then it won’t be so bad, probably.

They get short moments together. They always leave Soonyoung hungry for more.

These days, this close to their comeback and in the middle of year-end shows, Soonyoung doesn’t get as much alone time in the practice room. The group needs to focus their efforts on getting everyone to the same speed, that signature Seventeen synchronicity.

Tonight is a bit different. It’s past three a.m. and the group finally calls it quits and begins to shuffle out of the room in small parties. Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua leave first, resigned to the exhaustion that comes with age. Minghao drags a babbling, complaining Mingyu out the door behind him. Jihoon snatches Seokmin and convinces him to do a couple of reps with him at their gym before retiring for the night. Wonwoo, Junhui, and Hansol are discussing a new phone game and comparing scores as they wander out.

Soonyoung presses his back against the main entrance once he’s left with his boys.

Chan is covered in sweat and his hair is matted against his face. The lines under his eyes are dark; his is a haunting beauty, especially when those eyes are aimed right at Soonyoung’s face, expectation in them heavy, leaden.

Seungkwan is lying on his back in the middle of the floor.

Soonyoung makes sure to lock the door.

Seungkwan sniffles and rolls onto his side. Chan comes to sit next to him. Soonyoung comes around and completes their little circle.

“I thought this would be hard,” Seungkwan says, voice partially eaten by the floor, “but I didn’t think it’d be this hard.”

Soonyoung smiles a sad smile to himself. He crawls over Seungkwan’s legs and kneels over Seungkwan’s hips.

“Do you want to be a different kind of hard?” Soonyoung asks.

“Yes please.”

Soonyoung folds himself over Seungkwan’s body and holds his weight on his hands over Seungkwan’s wrists. Seungkwan inhales sharply, the sound echoing, echoing.

Kissing Seungkwan has become more natural over time. They dance around each other less, but they keep up the front because the dancing is part of the fun. Seungkwan takes a step forward and Soonyoung takes a step back, maintaining the chase, giving him something to fight for.

God, does Seungkwan like to fight.

Chan shuffles over and lifts Soonyoung by the back of his shirt. Seungkwan whines his disappointment, but it doesn’t take long for him to busy himself with the front of Chan’s pants.

Kissing Chan is always sugary sweet. Soonyoung feels like a kid in a candy store when Chan offers himself to Soonyoung. Soonyoung can take and take and take and Chan always has more to give.

Chan gives himself up to his two hyungs completely and there is not a sight more satisfying.

They devolve into a tangled mess—Seungkwan paws at Chan’s sweats until Chan is moaning against Soonyoung’s mouth and Soonyoung rolls his hips down against the swell of Seungkwan’s answering erection.

Seungkwan’s sucking noisily on Chan’s cock when Soonyoung pulls him by the hair. Seungkwan groans, the sound rough on Soonyoung’s nerves, but he doesn’t protest when Soonyoung leans down to kiss him again. Chan’s taste lingers on his tongue.

Soonyoung sets his greedy touch on Chan’s cock and is rewarded with a full, rounded moan. He jerks him to completion, urging him to paint a pretty picture on Seungkwan’s face.

Seungkwan lies back, lip quivering, heart pounding through his chest to the floor, and watches as Chan and Soonyoung crawl over his legs. They both pull down his pants. Chan wipes up some of his come from Seungkwan’s cheek to slick his hands before closing them over both Seungkwan’s and Soonyoung’s erections.

It’s messy. But they learn how to clean up after themselves.

 

Award show after parties bring with them alcohol and hotel rooms. Soonyoung feels like he’s playing with fire, taking advantage of some of the luxuries afforded to him thanks to his minor celebrity status. But maybe he deserves to indulge every now and then.

Their short supply of alone time means they haven’t ventured to butt stuff, but Soonyoung doesn’t feel like he’s missing out that much. He knows that sort of activity will take a lot of preparation and time they just don’t have.

But they have learned to keep lube with them in a small, unmarked travel bottle.

Being on his hands and knees comes naturally to Soonyoung. It helps him feed his senses, overstimulating them as he slides his mouth up and down Seungkwan’s cock while Chan slicks up his thighs with lube. Soonyoung shudders helplessly when Chan slides his erection between his legs.

It’s strangely serene to be caught in the middle. Everything zeroes down to this moment: Seungkwan’s hands in his hair, Chan’s fingers gripping his hips hard enough he’s sure it will bruise, the sound of moans and panting and slick skin rubbing together.

Seungkwan comes down his throat—and though Chan was right about the strange texture, Soonyoung has grown a taste for it—and Chan makes a mess of the sheets below them. They handle Soonyoung with tenderness afterwards, covering him with kisses and whispering sweet nothings to him.

Sometimes, Soonyoung is overcome with emotion, but his boys just hold him through it.

They take turns kissing him and letting him breathe through it. Soonyoung feels fit to burst when fingers land on his erection. He doesn’t need to look to know that it’s Seungkwan touching him with those pretty hands. The ring on his pinky is warm and solid against his heated skin. Chan’s hand goes lower, pressing the sensitive spot under his balls, and Soonyoung comes seeing stars.

At least here they don’t have to clean up after themselves. They hurry to put their suits back on before returning to the mass of musicians mingling in the banquet hall.

 

Sometimes it’s easier to pull off their trysts when it’s only two of them.

Chan is so attentive and it makes Soonyoung’s heart swell. It certainly makes his dick swell, too.

Chan always talks when he touches Soonyoung and Soonyoung replies with helpless babbling.

“So good for me, hyung, so good,” Chan whispers into his ear.

Soonyoung whines and squirms against Chan’s chest.

“Please, Channie,” Soonyoung replies, unsure what he’s asking for; all he knows is that he wants more. “Please, touch me like that, more, please.”

They’re in the bathroom, one of the only rooms in the dorm with a lock, about to shower before they head off to dress rehearsals. This meeting was a bit spontaneous, and maybe a bit reckless, but as time passes, Soonyoung has begun to lose his capacity to care.

Chan pulls him into the shower. The water is hot but Soonyoung shivers anyway. Chan’s hands roam over his ass, slide between his cheeks and down to that sensitive spot he loves so much.

Soonyoung feels like he’s about to come, and the amazing thing is that Chan can tell without having to ask. Chan gets to his knees, and his presence is strong despite his lowered stature, hair framing his dark eyes as they stare up at Soonyoung.

Soonyoung feels so vulnerable at Chan’s mercy but the thrill is addicting.

He comes against the back of Chan’s throat and giggles when Chan pulls away to spit it on the shower floor.

When Soonyoung throws himself into Chan’s arms, Chan welcomes him warmly, helps him wash his hair and his face. When Soonyoung braces his weight against the shower wall and offers his thighs to Chan, Chan takes his hips with a bright “thank you” and thrusts between them with abandon.

The shower washes away the mess, easily forgotten as they rush to get dressed for the day.

 

Seungkwan is more timid than Chan but, somehow, feistier. He always approaches with caution, but once he’s poked and prodded a few times, it doesn’t take long for him to bare his teeth.

They manage to get some time together in Soonyoung’s and Hansol’s room. Soonyoung has a feeling that Hansol knows about their arrangement, but that’s a question for another time.

Soonyoung teases him because it’s fun and Seungkwan teases him back. They’re still fully clothed on Soonyoung’s bed, thighs tangled together, Seungkwan’s ass pressed against Soonyoung’s legs as he hangs over Soonyoung’s shoulders.

“Do you want me to touch you, Seungkwannie?” Soonyoung asks against Seungkwan’s mouth.

“What do you think?”

Soonyoung hums and nips at Seungkwan’s neck.

“You’re being so rude to your hyung,” Soonyoung murmurs. “What makes you think I’ll give you what you want if you’re gonna be mean to me?”

Seungkwan reaches down and grabs Soonyoung’s dick through his pants.

“Because I’ll give you what you want if you give me what I want,” Seungkwan replies.

Soonyoung groans and tilts his head back against the pillows. “That’s a good point,” he says on a sigh, “but how do I know you’ll be good on your word?”

“I’m always good, hyung.”

Soonyoung grins. He grabs Seungkwan by the ass and drags him onto his cock. He’s rewarded with friction from Seungkwan’s supple assets.

“Take off your clothes,” Soonyoung tells him.

Seungkwan throws his shirt over his head. Soonyoung reaches up to play with his nipples and smiles to himself when Seungkwan’s hips twitch. He’s content to watch the flush in Seungkwan’s neck and cheeks darken, to listen to Seungkwan’s voice climb higher and higher in pitch.

“Hyung,” Seungkwan whines, and Soonyoung backs off.

Seungkwan hops onto his feet and shimmies out of his pants. While he’s standing, he yanks off Soonyoung’s pants, too.

“Make sure you keep track of where your clothes are,” Soonyoung says.

Seungkwan clicks his tongue. “Too late,” he replies. “I’ll just grab something of yours. Or Hansol’s.”

Soonyoung pouts. “I hope it’ll be mine,” he says.

“Don’t be jealous.”

“You’ll look ugly in Hansol’s clothes!”

Seungkwan snorts a laugh. “You have a point,” he says.

Grinning, Seungkwan leans down to kiss his hyung. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You’re so cute when you pout.”

Soonyoung makes an exaggerated expression and Seungkwan laughs again.

“Come here,” Soonyoung beckons him, grabbing his hips.

Seungkwan crawls up the bed to hover over Soonyoung’s shoulders.

“Turn around,” Soonyoung tells him.

Seungkwan heaves an exaggerated sigh, but he complies. Soonyoung takes some time to play with his ass, squeezing it with both hands and giving it a few slaps. The resulting _smacks_ ring throughout the room; Soonyoung grins to himself.

“Are you gonna suck my dick or what?” Seungkwan asks. He taps his foot by Soonyoung’s head, a warning shot.

Soonyoung pulls Seungkwan’s hips down and takes as much of Seungkwan into his mouth as he can in one go. Back then, Seungkwan had made an accurate prediction: Soonyoung loves to suck dick.

He makes no effort to hide his enthusiasm. He hollows out his cheeks and maps out the shape of Seungkwan’s cock with his tongue. At first, all Seungkwan can do is hang on, digging his fingers into Soonyoung’s legs. But he takes a few gasping breaths and then he’s descending on Soonyoung as well, matching Soonyoung’s enthusiasm with his own.

Seungkwan is better at swallowing than Chan is. He’s not quite as eager as Soonyoung when it comes to milking a man for all he’s worth, but he doesn’t pull away to spit nearly as often as Chan does.

The problem with fucking in the dorms is staying quiet. At least having a dick in the mouth helps with that problem.

Seungkwan is a panting mess as Soonyoung nearly swallows him whole. He twitches with the hypersensitivity that follows and he lets Soonyoung play with him even further, always greedy, so hungry.

Seungkwan curls in on himself when he comes a second time, muffling his cries against Soonyoung’s thigh.

 

One time, Soonyoung walks in on Seungkwan and Chan making out in the shower room where this all started. He knows they all try to be cautious when getting intimate with each other, and once he sees them tangled up in each other, he tries to mask his presence. Maybe he succeeds; maybe he doesn’t. But neither of them move when he slips into the room as quietly as he can.

There are clothes on the floor already, but only Chan is a state of undress. Seungkwan’s hands dig into Chan’s ass, holding him close as he grinds his hips against Chan’s thigh.

“You ready to come already?” Chan asks, words broken up by his laboured breathing.

“N-No,” Seungkwan spits out.

Chan smirks and bears his thigh down on Seungkwan’s hips. Seungkwan whines high in his throat.

“There’s no need to hold back,” Chan continues.

“N-No,” Seungkwan repeats. “You’re—I’m gonna make you come first.”

Might explain why Chan is the only one in his underwear.

Seungkwan relinquishes his hold on Chan’s ass to slip a hand into Chan’s briefs. Soonyoung gets a peek of Chan’s erection, flushed dark against Seungkwan’s pink fingers.

Chan bows his head, panting harder now. Seungkwan leans forward to suck on Chan’s shoulder, and Soonyoung can see his jaw tighten when he bites down.

Chan whimpers and it’s so cute. Chan isn’t quiet when they fuck, far from it, but he’s always the one talking. He’s always the one with encouraging words and praise flowing freely from his tongue. But as Seungkwan’s hand works fast on his cock, Chan can do nothing but moan.

“Seungkwan,” Chan breathes. “My Seungkwannie—”

The possessive makes Soonyoung’s heart flip in his chest. The way Chan lets his hyungs take him completely is endearing, but the way Chan owns their hearts in the same way always leaves Soonyoung with an achingly full chest.

Seungkwan slows his hand.

“What was that, Chan-ah?” Seungkwan asks.

Chan takes a sharp breath.

“My Seungkwan,” Chan says again. He turns his head to meet Seungkwan’s eyes. “Mine. You’re mine.”

Seungkwan’s hand strokes him leisurely now. He loves to tease.

“I’m yours?” Seungkwan asks. “So does that mean you’ll come for me?”

There’s a pause in Chan’s panting as he swallows.

“Yes,” he says. “Anything—for you.”

“So cute,” Seungkwan murmurs. “Say my name when you come, Channie.”

“Seungkwan,” Chan moans, and Seungkwan’s hand speeds up. “Seungkwan, Seungkwan—yes, my Seungkwan, p-please—Seungkwan!”

Seungkwan rubs his thumb against the place where the head meets the shaft, a sweet spot for all of them but especially for Chan, and holds Chan tight as he twitches through his orgasm. Seungkwan continues to move his hand, even when Chan’s eyes start to water, and kisses the top of Chan’s head when he buries his face in Seungkwan’s shoulder.

“You gonna come for me again?” Seungkwan asks. “My Channie?”

Chan shakes his head. “Can’t,” he breathes out. “But—feels good, Seungkwan.”

Seungkwan hums. He nudges Chan’s cheek until he’s upright again and kisses him when his lips are free. Some tears fall from Chan’s eyes as Seungkwan continues to stroke him slowly.

Chan’s legs shake as he reaches another peak, smaller this time.

“Need to sit,” he mutters. He loops his arms around Seungkwan’s waist and drags him over to the bench, where he sets his weight down heavily. Seungkwan barely has time to shake some of the come from his hand before Chan is yanking his pants over his thighs and covering Seungkwan’s cock with his mouth.

Seungkwan throws his head back and digs his hands into Chan’s shoulders.

Chan pauses, pulling back, and looks up at Seungkwan.

“Fuck my face,” he tells him.

Soonyoung’s eyebrows rise. As do Seungkwan’s.

“Please,” Chan says.

Soonyoung’s dick rises against his pants. He’s held off touching himself until now, but he can’t hold back any longer.

Seungkwan swallows, and then he buries his fingers in Chan’s hair. He sets his weight as steadily as he can on his two legs before he begins to thrust forward. At first, he’s timid, cautious, but when Chan takes him so easily, moaning his muffled enthusiasm, he begins to speed up.

Soonyoung times his hand with Seungkwan’s thrusts. He stuffs his other hand into his mouth in an attempt to be quiet, but he has a feeling his boys have known he’s been there this whole time.

When Seungkwan comes, Chan swallows. Soonyoung wonders if he’s trying to show off or something, but then he giggles a bit when Chan’s brow furrows.

Seungkwan backs off with wobbly legs. He takes a seat next to Chan and heaves a satisfied sigh.

“Hyung,” Chan calls out.

Seungkwan doesn’t react. He rubs his nose and snuggles closer to Chan.

Soonyoung figures that’s his cue. He tucks his dick back into his pants and approaches the two on the bench.

Chan rests his arm against the curve of Soonyoung’s waist and takes one of Soonyoung’s hands.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Chan asks.

Seungkwan grins. “Didn’t know you were into voyeurism,” he says.

Soonyoung feels a blush rise to his face. He looks at the floor for a second, but he can’t resist the pull of his two dongsaengs looking up at him.

Soonyoung shrugs. “It’s not a particular thing for me, but you two are really pretty together,” Soonyoung replies. He puts a hand over his chest. “The way you called each other “mine”... wow. That really got me.”

Seungkwan rests a hand on the other side of Soonyoung’s waist.

“Well, you’re mine too, hyung,” Seungkwan says simply.

“As you are mine,” Chan adds. He slides his hand down to grab Soonyoung’s ass.

A shiver rolls through Soonyoung’s body and heat follows it in waves. The splotchy redness in his face can’t be attractive, but the way that Seungkwan and Chan stare at him makes him feel like dinner.

They strip Soonyoung of his clothes and pull him under one of the showerheads. They give him a generous cleaning between his legs, giving his dick lots of attention at the same time, before toweling him off.

Soonyoung can’t even begin to guess what they have planned for him, so he doesn’t ask any questions.

Seungkwan settles onto the bench, straddling it. Then, he waves Soonyoung over.

Soonyoung steps up to him.

“Come here,” Seungkwan calls to him. He takes Soonyoung’s hand and pulls him forward. Soonyoung steps closer and closer until his hips are merely inches away from Seungkwan's lips.

“Good,” Seungkwan says. “Channie, are you good?” he asks through Soonyoung’s thighs.

“Yes, hyung.”

Soonyoung is about to ask if they plan on serving him up on a silver platter when they both press their mouths to his skin, Seungkwan’s over his cock and Chan’s at his ass.

He felt like dinner but he had no idea he was going to be eaten like this.

Chan doesn’t go for broke right away. He must have picked up on some of Seungkwan’s affinity for teasing: he licks around him and presses his thumbs where his tongue doesn’t touch. Soonyoung’s first instinct is to lean back against that warm, wet attention, but that would be pulling away from Seungkwan’s inviting mouth.

When Soonyoung chances a glance down, he finds Seungkwan watching him with a sharp eye. It only reinforces the feeling of being swallowed up.

Soonyoung writhes and pants and then he really has to hold back from howling when Chan starts to press his tongue against the sweet spot. Under such loving attention combined with Chan’s thumbs against his taint, Soonyoung knows he won’t last long.

Soonyoung presses a hand against Seungkwan’s shoulder, a warning. Seungkwan’s eyes curve softly in a smile before they close and Seungkwan starts sucking Soonyoung’s soul down his throat.

When he comes, Soonyoung can barely stay on his feet. Chan is quick to catch him and pull him into his lap.

“God, you’re gonna need another shower,” Chan remarks. “You’re so fucking sweaty.”

Soonyoung doesn’t have the breath to reply.

Seungkwan crawls forward on the bench and reaches out to push some of Soonyoung’s hair out of his face.

“That’s the face of someone well-fucked, hmm?” Seungkwan comments. His hand lingers on Soonyoung’s face despite the sweat. “Chan’s been dying to try that, you know.”

Chan aims a slap to Seungkwan’s shoulder.

“Why’d you have to put it like that,” he complains.

“Because,” Seungkwan replies smugly. “What’re you gonna do about it, huh? Gonna eat my ass, too?”

“I just might!”

Footsteps approach the door outside. All three of them fall silent.

There’s talking outside and they know they have to get their shit together and fast. Chan pulls on his clothes and Soonyoung takes off to the showers, ready to get under the spray again.

When the door opens, Soonyoung is turning the knob for one of the showers and Seungkwan is folding a sweater. Chan is about to duck into a changing cubicle.

Jeonghan steps in. He lets the door swing behind him as he greets his dongsaengs brightly.

“Tough practice, huh?” he asks. He starts to strip as he continues speaking: “I just couldn’t wait to go home because I’m so damn gross.”

Seungkwan laughs and Soonyoung puts his head under the water. God, of all people, why did it have to be Jeonghan?

“I brought a change of clothes with me, but I think I’m gonna take a really hot shower at home,” Seungkwan says. “I have my really nice shampoo there, so I’m just gonna head out. See ya!”

He gets to his feet and walks out of the room, nice and calm like.

Soonyoung continues to run his fingers through his hair, hoping Jeonghan won’t feel inclined to carry the conversation onto him.

When Chan steps out of the cubicle, Jeonghan claims him as his next victim.

“Couldn’t wait to get home, huh?” Jeonghan asks.

Chan makes a vague noise. “No,” he replies. “I hate it when I go out in the cold when I’m all sweaty. I’m afraid I’ll catch a cold.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

The next thing Soonyoung feels is Jeonghan’s hand on his shoulder.

“You hear that, Soonyoung-ah?” Jeonghan asks. “Dry off properly before you go home.”

And then the next shower turns on. Soonyoung swallows down his heart before it leaps from his throat.

Soonyoung turns the knob and stands in the cold for a while. He really needs it.

When he turns to gather his clothes, Chan is standing there holding a towel for him.

Chan mouths ‘sorry’ at him before ducking out of the room.

Soonyoung smiles to himself as he begins to towel off again. It’s nice and all to say sorry, but Soonyoung would be lying if he said he regretted starting any of this.

 

* * *

 

New Year’s Eve rolls around in no time. The group has had more time to practice Getting Closer on stage, but for today’s show, they opt for something more light-hearted. Performing _Oh My!_ and their all-member version of _Just Do It_ is sure to bring back the warmth of summer, at least for a day.

There are some problems with the on-stage audio when they get around to performing, but it’s okay. It’s the end of the year. At least they can leave this behind them in the past and be happy that they’re starting the new year happy and healthy.

Seungcheol gathers the boys together in the company building after the show. He had food sent there earlier in the day, as well as an abundance of alcohol.

Shots are passed around the table and beer bottles are cracked open. There’s chicken and rice and plenty of kimchi for the Performance Team leader.

Chan accepts a shot glass and turns to Seungcheol when he taps his bottle to grab everyone’s attention.

“Listen up, kids!” Seungcheol bellows. His voice cuts through the room and the rest of the members fall silent. “I just wanted to thank you all for your efforts this past year. We did a hell of a lot of shit this year: we had two comebacks, two big Seoul concerts, an overseas tour, and our Japan debut. We had SVT Club and we had our second year of Going Seventeen. Our Junhui and Minghao had their work in China and raised our popularity over there, too. There were some injuries and some stress, but if we didn’t face any challenges, life would be pretty boring, right?”

He’s met with a chorus of agreement.

“So I just want to congratulate you guys for all of your accomplishments—”

Jeonghan elbows him. _“Our_ accomplishments, Mr. General Leader,” he cuts in.

Seungcheol grins sheepishly. “Well, I mean, still. Okay, _our_ accomplishments,” he corrects himself. He clears his throat before continuing: “Anyway, I want to say congrats and I want to say thank you. Each of you contributed to our success as a group, as idols, as musicians in this industry, and I hope we carry all the good into the new year and leave behind the bad.”

He pauses to rub his nose and sniffle quietly. “You guys are my best friends,” he says. “You guys are my family. Without you guys, I couldn’t be here today, and for that, I’m sincerely thankful. I promise to do my best to continue to be your leader, imperfect as I am, and I hope you all can help me grow in the future.”

“You’re gonna make me cry,” Seokmin interjects. His sniffles match Seungcheol’s.

Seungkwan slaps Seokmin’s shoulder. “If you cry, I’ll cry!” he complains. “No crying!”

Seungcheol gives them a watery grin. “No, no crying,” he agrees. “Let’s eat and drink and be merry!”

The group gives a resonant cry. Glasses come together and chopsticks are broken apart. The room erupts in a cacophony of life and Chan feels right at home in the middle of it all.

Sometimes, Chan wishes he had a better tolerance for alcohol, like Seungcheol or Mingyu. Maybe it’s something he needs to accept as part of being built a little bit smaller than others. But maybe it’s more fun this way.

Slowly, he comes to realize that his, well, romantic partners also lack the gift of alcohol tolerance, and that this might just be a recipe for disaster.

“Any new year’s resolutions?” Wonwoo asks Chan. He’s got his glasses on and his alcohol flush reflects in the lenses.

Chan hums. He shrugs. “I haven’t really thought about it,” he replies. “I got my license this year, so I guess that leaves me with going to the gym, or whatever.”

“Boring,” Wonwoo drawls. He hooks an arm around Chan’s neck and drags him around the room; maybe alcohol gives him restless legs. “I guess it’s hard to think of ways to improve when you’re the golden maknae, huh?”

Chan laughs. “You’re just saying shit,” he replies.

“No, it’s true. You shame me sometimes, you know? You’re so talented and you work so hard. You’re out there setting an example for all your hyungs.”

Is this Wonwoo’s way of getting emotional?

Before Wonwoo starts to rant, Junhui pops up and slings his arms around Wonwoo’s waist.

“Wonwoo-ya, did you eat enough?” he asks. He’s holding a box of chicken in one hand. He holds it out between Wonwoo and Chan. “Maknae-ya, eat more!”

Chan looks at the chicken. Then he looks up at Junhui.

“Did you pour hot sauce all over this?” Chan asks.

Junhui grins from ear to ear. “No, no,” he says. “Maybe just a little. For flavour!”

Wonwoo spins in Junhui’s grasp to face him.

“Is this a challenge?” he asks.

“Sure!” Junhui chirps in reply. “Come on, I’ll get you something to wash it down if you can’t handle it.”

“I can handle anything!” Wonwoo cries. The sudden burst is met with a rally of cries from around the room; most of the group likes to scream just because someone else is screaming.

And just like that, Wonwoo and Junhui are gone.

Chan wanders over to Hansol, who is fiddling with music on a laptop with Jihoon.

“Hansol-ah,” Chan calls.

Hansol doesn’t look up but he grunts in acknowledgement.

“Hansol, I need to talk to you,” Chan continues.

He’s got a question that’s been on his mind for days now. A bit of liquid courage has pushed him to finally asking.

Hansol looks up and lowers the headphones from his ears.

“What’s up?” Hansol asks. He smirks. “I hope you haven’t come to confess your undying love to me.”

Chan laughs despite knowing the joke is at his own expense.

“No, I’m not that far gone yet,” Chan replies. “No, I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

Chan glances over at Jihoon. He’s not facing his dongsaengs; he looks engrossed in the music program in front of him. They’re playing around with some tracks hooked up to some speakers.

Chan takes Hansol’s elbow and pulls him closer. He looks around surreptitiously and takes yet another step closer to Hansol.

“Um, I have a question about Seungkwan,” Chan whispers.

Hansol lifts an eyebrow. “Alright?” he asks.

“Do you, um, do you know about—”

“What are you two whispering about over there?” Jihoon asks loudly.

He’s drunk. He’s also speaking directly into a microphone.

Everyone in the room turns around to face them.

Jihoon laughs into the microphone. A few others laugh at his laughter.

Seungkwan wanders over and puts one hand on Hansol’s forearm and the other on Chan’s.

“What are you doing,” Seungkwan hisses at them. “Are you guys conspiring over here?”

“N-No,” Chan starts, “I just—I just wanted to ask—”

“What are you interrogating him about?” Seungkwan asks. He draws in close, crowding Chan’s space. “Are you starting trouble, Lee Chan?”

Hansol gets dragged behind Seungkwan. Chan glances at him over Seungkwan’s shoulder. At least there’s an amused look on Hansol’s face.

“Hyung,” Chan says with a pleading tone. “I swear, I didn’t even get a chance to say anything before Jihoon interrupted us.”

Seungkwan abandons Hansol’s arm in favour of grabbing Chan’s shirt with both hands. This is a familiar scene; despite himself, Chan feels himself blush beyond the alcohol flush that’s settled in his cheeks.

“You gotta be good, Channie,” Seungkwan murmurs. “You gotta be good because we’re in public. We can’t give ourselves away.”

That’s exactly what Chan’s afraid of, being cornered by Seungkwan in a room full of his members. Heat rolls through his body: embarrassment, apprehension, and, somehow, arousal, all at once.

Something in Chan’s stomach tells him to kiss Seungkwan, but he knows it’s just the alcohol.

Hansol steps in and saves the day. He puts a hand on Seungkwan’s shoulder and pulls him back into the room, under the dimly flashing party lights that were set up next to the speakers.

“Don’t start trouble,” Hansol tells him.

Seungkwan pouts and drops his head between his shoulders like a chastised puppy.

“I wasn’t, I swear!” he insists.

Hansol’s gaze slides over to look at Chan.

“I think the answer to your question is yes,” Hansol tells him dryly. “I’ll watch him if you need me to.”

Chan definitely can’t watch him on his own. He nods feebly and Hansol just shrugs.

Seokmin bounds over and takes Chan’s hands. The room turns into a blur of colour as Seokmin drags him around.

“Channie-ya!” Seokmin cries. “Dance with me! Show me something new!”

Suddenly, he’s in the middle of a circle of people shouting ‘freestyle!’ at him.

Chan laughs and stretches out his arms. Letting the music wash over him is second nature, and maybe the alcohol dulls some of his senses in favour of focusing on the music. It starts to flow through him, rushing through his limbs, and he lets it out in an explosion of movement. Whether or not it’s good at all is not his concern.

Seokmin joins him not long after he starts, and they gyrate in each other’s space. Then, he feels another presence behind him, moving much closer to his body than Seokmin.

Chan feels a hand on his hip and knows immediately whose it is.

Seokmin grins and takes Soonyoung’s free hand, and they form a strange, vibrating sandwich of people. The circle from before dissolves and Chan is crowded by his fellow Performance Team members and most of Vocal Team.

Seokmin turns and grabs Jeonghan’s arm, easily turning his attention away. Then it’s just Chan and Soonyoung.

Soonyoung sets his now-free hand on the other side of Chan’s hips. He leans in so he can whisper in Chan’s ear over the music.

“You’re so sexy, you know?” Soonyoung tells him. “It’s almost frustrating to let you dance like this in front of everyone else.”

Chan smirks. “My dancing is for everyone,” he replies. “But my body is yours.”

Soonyoung’s eyes blaze with want, and Chan’s natural instinct tells him to lean in and press their bodies and lips together as closely as possible. As time passes, it becomes harder and harder to stay aware of his surroundings.

But then Seungkwan buds in and slides his body between Chan and Soonyoung. Soonyoung’s hands quickly find Seungkwan’s hips and Seungkwan’s ass quickly finds the front of Chan’s pelvis.

This is irresponsible. But Chan is having a hard time caring.

Chan wraps an arm around Seungkwan's chest and pulls him in close. He can feel Seungkwan's heart beating quickly, beating in time with the music, an echo of his own, a bridge between their two bodies.

It would take little effort to lean in and lay kisses and bites over the side of Seungkwan's neck. It would be so easy.

Soonyoung moves faster than Chan can entertain a thought and he presses his forehead against Seungkwan's. Seungkwan's weight shifts as he tilts his head.

Chan recognizes the move and tugs Seungkwan away before anything can happen. But he doesn't account for Seungkwan's weight and he feels the world tip on its axis as he starts to fall.

“Seungkwan!” Soonyoung cries, following after them. There's nowhere to go but the floor, now.

Wrapped up in his two lovers, Chan finds he can only laugh. Soon enough, they follow suit, and the three of them heave and writhe with laughter.

Jeonghan and Junhui get to their knees immediately, crowding them.

“Are you alright?” Jeonghan asks. He attempts to detangle their limbs with cautious hands.

Tears spring into Chan’s eyes as he laughs and laughs.

“Yes, hyung,” Chan manages between breaths. He takes Jeonghan’s hands when they're offered to him, but another pair of hands keep him tethered to the floor.

“No!” Seungkwan cries. “He’s mine!”

Soonyoung snakes an arm around one of Chan’s thighs, pulling him sideways.

“No, he’s mine!” Soonyoung shouts.

Jeonghan starts to laugh and joins them on the floor.

“You should learn to share, boys,” Jeonghan chides them.

Chan smiles up at Jeonghan.

“They're actually quite good at it,” he states.

The hand on Chan’s thigh presses possessive fingertips into his flesh.

“If it meant having you, Channie, I’d do anything,” Soonyoung says.

Seungkwan nods. “Sharing with this guy is a small price to pay to call you mine,” he agrees.

“Ours.”

“Fine, ours.”

Junhui joins them on the floor. He lies back against Soonyoung's chest and lays his head on Soonyoung's shoulder.

“So does that mean you guys are together?” Junhui asks casually.

“More or less,” Soonyoung replies just as easily.

For a second, all Chan can do is count the beats that dance around them. The music goes on and some members are still dancing and mingling, but Chan can't help but hold his breath in anticipation.

Slowly, Chan turns his head to look at Jeonghan. Jeonghan looks back at him, his brow furrowed.

“What did you just say?” Jeonghan asks. He slowly slides his gaze to Soonyoung.

Under Jeonghan’s stare, Soonyoung’s expression grows slack as realization dawns on him.

“Uh,” is all Soonyoung can say. He looks to Seungkwan for help.

“He, uh, he said—” Seungkwan starts, but Jeonghan shushes him.

“No, no,” Jeonghan says, “I asked Soonyoung.”

Chan, Seungkwan, and Soonyoung exchange looks.

But it’s Junhui who smiles and reaches out to pat Jeonghan’s arm.

“He said they’re together,” he states. He tilts his head and meets Jeonghan’s gaze head-on. “That’s not that hard to understand, is it?”

If Chan had any comprehensible thoughts to speak, they all die in his throat.

Jeonghan flushes. “W-Well, I guess not,” he says.

A big brother face-off is quite a sight to see.

Jeonghan scoots closer to Chan and mutters, “We’re gonna talk about this later.” Then, he smiles and pets the top of Chan’s head. “But, since we’re partying, I’ll let you off the hook for now. Enjoy it while you can.”

Chan sighs. It was only inevitable, he supposes.

But at least it’s a start.

“Hyung,” Soonyoung says, leaning towards Jeonghan, “I promise I’m taking care of him.”

Seungkwan nods vigorously. He looks like he immediately regrets it afterwards, adopting a dizzy expression. Junhui tends to him and holds his head upright for him.

Soonyoung pats Jeonghan’s shoulder erratically. “So don’t worry,” he adds. He leans in a little closer. “So, um, is it okay if I kiss him now?”

Jeonghan starts. “What are you asking me for?” he asks. There’s a note of hysterical laughter in his voice.

Soonyoung points a finger in Jeonghan’s direction. “Got me there,” he says.

Before Chan can say his piece, Soonyoung turns and plants a wet smooch on his cheek. His words dissolve into laughter, but even that is quieted when Seungkwan turns and kisses him on the lips.

Flames burst to life in Chan’s stomach and his fingertips tingle with warmth as he reaches for Seungkwan’s face. Although Chan wants nothing more to tilt his head and open his mouth to let Seungkwan in, he pulls Seungkwan away from him and smiles at him instead.

“Later,” he mouths to Seungkwan.

Seungkwan sighs with his entire chest and nods.

In the end, Joshua and Seungcheol both have to pick up Jeonghan off his ass. They offer him more soju and more chicken and even some tissues as they whisk him away from the boys on the floor.

Junhui pats Chan’s knee.

“I know this goes without saying,” Junhui starts, “but, you know. We’re counting on you to be responsible.”

Chan blinks and turns his head to Junhui. “Me?” he asks.

Junhui nods. “You are the responsible one, after all,” he replies.

Seungkwan and Soonyoung clamour to protest, but nothing comes of it. Junhui laughs and offers them hugs in return, but Chan knows that he’s right.

It’s okay. Chan doesn’t mind the responsibility. If it means having Soonyoung and Seungkwan, he’d do anything.

Chan has worked hard all his life to put his life on its current track. He’s worked hard to keep it there and to pave the way for future aspirations. This is no different.

Minghao floats over and pulls Junhui onto his feet. The two of them help Chan, Soonyoung, and Seungkwan so that they’re upright, and they return to the table of food for seconds and thirds and fourths.

It’s easy to answer questions when there’s food and alcohol in front of him, Chan decides. And it’s easy to do most anything when Soonyoung and Seungkwan are standing by his side.

 

* * *

 

The days grow colder as January rolls around, but comeback preparations keep them warm. Seungkwan doesn’t necessarily pride himself on his ability to keep his stress in check, but as they enter the final stages before their new song enters the world, he’s found that maybe things could be worse after all.

He’s stopped falling asleep at his desk. That’s a major improvement.

Maybe it helps that his birthday’s coming up. It’s something to look forward to that’s not work-related.

And maybe he’s expecting something from his work friends. Work boyfriends. Something. And maybe that’s really exciting, too.

There’s nothing that he wants in particular, especially not something he can’t just buy himself. Between the members, the best gifts they can give each other is their company. And food. Usually it’s a package deal.

So maybe he’s expecting a dinner of sorts. Just for the three of them. Something like that. Something lowkey. No pressure.

Seokmin finds him when he’s working in a computer lab. Seokmin hops into the nearest chair and rolls it as close to Seungkwan’s as possible.

“Hi, Seungkwannie,” Seokmin chirps. He lays his head on Seungkwan’s shoulder. “I see you’ve squirreled yourself away today.”

Seungkwan snorts. “Just so I don’t drive myself crazy thinking about the comeback,” he replies.

“It’s only a week away, huh?”

Seungkwan groans and covers his face with his hands. Seokmin gently pulls them away and smiles when Seungkwan’s eyes are visible again.

“Your birthday is soon, too,” Seokmin says.

“Don’t remind me.” Seungkwan sighs and puts a hand to his chest. “I’m getting so old, hyung,” he says.

Seokmin just grins and says, “Join the club. Unfortunately, as time passes, we get older.”

“Sometimes, the truth hurts.”

Seokmin settles against Seungkwan’s side and rests his chin on Seungkwan’s shoulder.

“What do you want for your birthday?” Seokmin asks.

Seungkwan shrugs. “Maybe an iced coffee,” he replies.

Seokmin laughs. “For real, though.”

“I am being real!”

Seokmin hums. “Noted,” he says. Another grin graces his features, something a little sly. “But what do you want from your boyfriends?”

Seungkwan sighs. “They’re not my boyfriends,” he says drily.

“Lovers?”

“Please don’t say that word to me ever again.”

Seokmin laughs. He shakes Seungkwan a little in his grasp. “Come on, Seungkwannie. I’m dying to know what they’re getting you.” He pauses. “Well, besides dick.”

“Shut the fuck up, Seokmin!”

Seokmin bursts into laughter. “Maybe they’ll book a night in a really fancy hotel,” he says. “You guys can get room service and not have to worry about us in the dorms.”

“Are you saying that just because you don’t want to hear us fucking?”

“I will neither confirm nor deny.”

Seungkwan slaps Seokmin’s thigh and he just laughs. This boy is always so full of laughter and sunshine.

“To be honest,” Seungkwan starts, his voice low, “I don’t really want to set any sort of expectations for them. This is—I mean, it’s hardly an occasion. And it’s technically like, our first thing together, since we, you know.”

“Like, your first big event? First couples’ thing? Er, uh—”

“I get your point,” Seungkwan says. He pats Seokmin’s knee. “Maybe. Something like that. But since it is the first one and the relationship is still new, I don’t want to think about it too much.”

“Oooh,” Seokmin says. “That makes sense. So smart, Kwannie.”

Seungkwan shrugs. “I need to be realistic so that this works out, you know? I won’t lie: I would love it if they did something big for me. But, you know. I’m the smart one and they’re the dumb ones.”

Seokmin laughs and says, “How can you expect them to get you something nice if you’re so mean to them?”

“Well, that’s why I’m telling you and not them.”

Seokmin covers his face with his hand and giggles.

“I’m sure they’re getting you something nice,” Seokmin says. It’s reassuring coming from him.

Seungkwan cracks a smile. “Since it’s from them, I’m sure I’ll like it no matter what,” he says, and in his heart, he believes it.

 

Soonyoung and Chan are huddled on Soonyoung’s bed with a laptop balanced between them.

“I can’t believe you’re failing me today of all days,” Soonyoung says to his favourite online shopping site.

“We still have a couple days left. We can just go out and buy something,” Chan tells him.

Soonyoung groans and falls back onto the bed.

“That just seems so…” Soonyoung waves his hands in the air. “It’s so blah. You know? He can go down the street any time he wants and buy whatever’s there. We have to get him something special.”

Chan collapses onto his back and slots his head into the crook of Soonyoung’s shoulder.

“Listen,” Chan says, “no one knows him better than us. We’re his best friends. We’re family. We’ve seen his asshole more times than we can count. So we’ll figure something out.”

“Well, we’ve gotta do it now!”

Chan sighs. “You know he’s not terribly materialistic.”

“Which makes this hard.”

A pause.

“We could make _him_ hard,” Chan suggests.

“We don’t need a special occasion for that.”

“You’re right.”

They sigh.

“We can go for dinner,” Soonyoung starts, “and we could—we could get him flowers, or something. Ask the florist for the meaning. Make a poem or something.” He pauses. “Is that too cheesy?”

Chan shrugs. “What makes you think we can write a poem?” he asks. “Unless you’re planning to ask Jihoon to proofread it or something.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Soonyoung asks. There’s a pout in his tone.

“Well… I guess I just don’t like the idea of asking for help,” Chan mutters.

With a sigh, Soonyoung turns and loops his arms around Chan’s chest. Chan snuggles closer immediately. They tangle their legs together.

“That’s fair,” Soonyoung mumbles into Chan’s hair.

“I guess sometimes we need help, though,” Chan says.

“But that’s why we’re a team!”

Chan nods. He presses an idle kiss to Soonyoung’s neck, and the casual gestle still stirs butterflies in Soonyoung’s stomach. He’s not sure if he’ll ever get used to this kind of intimacy. He’s not sure if he wants to. The novelty thrills him, excites him, and Soonyoung is easily addicted to that sort of thing.

“We don’t have to get him anything one-of-a-kind or hugely expensive to make him feel special,” Chan says after a while. “Right?”

“Right.”

“But I think that’s what we need to focus on,” Chan continues. “Making him feel special.”

“Something that makes him feel special, more so than the usual.” Soonyoung chews on this for a second. “No, yeah, that makes sense. It’s definitely what he deserves on his birthday of all days.”

“We just need to sell it,” Chan says. “You know he’s a bit of a skeptic at times. Thinking he’s undeserving of love.”

“So let’s give him so much love he can’t deny us.”

Chan smiles at that. “That’s a great place to start.”

 

It’s not often that the boys turn in before midnight, but they’re afforded an opportunity the night before Seungkwan’s birthday.

He has a feeling it’s a ruse, but maybe he’s being a bit suspicious.

After he finishes his nightly skin routine, he approaches his door and pauses. There might be something waiting for him behind the door.

Maybe he’s just being plain paranoid. Or hopeful.

Seungkwan takes a deep breath before opening the door.

Both of his roommates are missing. Maybe he has a right to be suspicious now.

A wave of bodies rushes the doorway and he gets carried by the current.

“Happy birthday!!” comes a chorus of voices. Seungkwan can identify each of the voices that blur together, can differentiate the shape of the edges that overlap in that one moment.

Performing in front of Carats is a rush of love Seungkwan still has trouble fully digesting. This, being on the receiving end of affection from his twelve members, is not so different. Each of them brings a distinct flavour of fondness that stimulates Seungkwan’s senses almost to the point of sensitivity, but maybe that’s his heart reeling from the sheer power of love that washes over him.

Seungcheol nearly tackles him to the floor. His arms carry with them crushing strength and Seungkwan feels dizzy being caught in their vice grip. Seungkwan laughs and laughs and finds hands all over him, faces grinning, voices calling in his ears.

“It’s our main vocalist’s special day!” Seungcheol cries.

He sets Seungkwan down so other members can reach him. Joshua ruffles his hair and Seokmin pinches his cheeks. Mingyu feigns flicking his forehead and lands a smooch there instead.

“Get your hands off me, giant!” Seungkwan shouts and Mingyu skitters away, cackling.

Jihoon rubs an aggressive hand over Seungkwan’s shoulders and says, “Dinner tomorrow. Your treat?”

Seungkwan laughs. “You know I can’t say no to you, hyung,” he replies.

Jihoon grins. It’s always a delight to see his face light up.

Everyone gets a chance to say their individual birthday greetings before the crowd eventually disperses. Even Junhui steps out of the room.

Soonyoung and Chan are the only ones left when the bedroom door clicks shut.

“Hi, hyung,” Chan says. He’s grinning from ear to ear.

Seungkwan walks backward until his back hits the door. Soonyoung crowds him right away, brushing his hair out of his face, always so quick to lavish him in affection.

“Happy birthday,” Soonyoung says quietly. He presses a kiss to Seungkwan’s forehead, his cheeks, and finally his lips.

Seungkwan leans up on his toes. His heart is already hammering in his chest, bouncing against the door at his back.

“Hey,” Chan complains, “don’t hog him to yourself.”

Soonyoung makes space for Chan to stand at his side and Chan leans in to rest his forehead against Seungkwan’s shoulder.

“All this love is tiring me out,” Seungkwan says, but it’s not a complaint.

Chan looks up at him and grins. “Good thing this is only part one, then,” he replies.

Seungkwan’s heart skips a beat. “Huh?”

Chan beams up at him. “Sleepover time!” he chirps.

With a tiny battle cry, Soonyoung picks up Seungkwan by his waist.

“Hyung!” Seungkwan exclaims. “Your shoulder!”

Soonyoung just laughs as he carries Seungkwan to his bed. He tosses Seungkwan onto his back before climbing over him.

“Don’t worry about me today, Kwannie,” Soonyoung tells him. “Today’s your day.”

Seungkwan turns his head against the pillows. He knows he’s blushing and yes, he’s embarrassed about it. Even when Soonyoung has seen parts of him his own eyes have never actually seen.

“N-No,” Seungkwan says, “it’s—it’s just another January 16th, you know?”

“Don’t be shy, Kwannie,” Soonyoung continues, susurrant. “If I had it my way, I wouldn’t dedicate just one day of the year to you. But at least today I have every right to do so.”

Soonyoung turns his head. “Isn’t that right, Channie?”

Chan sets his knee on the bed and waits for Soonyoung to give him space. Before Soonyoung moves from his position over Seungkwan’s body, he claims Seungkwan’s lips in a searing kiss.

Chan follows the motion and Seungkwan can feel his seams falling apart under Soonyoung and Chan’s force.

“You mean the absolute world to me, Seungkwan,” Chan tells him. His mouth is right by Seungkwan’s ear and his breath is hot over his skin. Seungkwan squirms under his touch. “I have never met a funnier guy with a greater voice or a fuller, rounder ass.” Chan squeezes it for emphasis. “You are one-of-a-kind. You hold a special place in my heart no one else could fill. I’m so lucky to call you mine.”

Seungkwan whimpers and tosses his head around again.

“God, why is this getting me horny,” he complains.

Soonyoung laughs. “That’s just our special talent,” he explains, “making you horny.”

Seungkwan wiggles his hips and immediately, Soonyoung’s hands are on him, pinning him in place.

“This was supposed to be a romantic love confession, but I guess we can get down to business first,” Chan says with a laugh.

“Wait, no, wait,” Seungkwan says. He’s already losing his grip on his tongue. “I want to hear Soonyoung’s side before I lose my ability to understand words.”

There’s a grin on Soonyoung’s face when he says, “Of course, baby. Anything for you.”

He presses a kiss to Seungkwan’s cheek before launching into his speech: “Seungkwan-ah, you know you complete me, right? There’s no one else like you. Without you, I don’t know who I’d be on that stage. Would I still be able to let loose the way I do? Who else would rein me in when I get crazy?”

Soonyoung laughs. “It’s funny how that applies to our life beyond the stage,” he continues. “But I guess that’s what really makes this real. You’re there when I need you; I know I can always come to you. And come on you. Et cetera.”

Seungkwan laughs and smacks Soonyoung’s side.

“I love you, Seungkwan,” Soonyoung says. “You mean more to me than you’ll ever know.”

It’s a weird feeling, having tears well up in his eyes while lying on his back flanked by two handsome men. But Seungkwan will cherish the feeling and keep it locked away in his heart.

“And I love you, Seungkwan,” Chan says. “I hope today is a special day for you. You deserve it. I’d give you the world, if I could.”

Seungkwan sniffles and wets his throat, swallowing lumps before they can fully form. He throws his arms around his two boys and squeezes his eyes shut against his tears.

“You already have,” he whispers. He can’t trust his voice to carry anything louder. “You guys are my world. You’re mine. I love you, too. I love you.”

Chan lifts a hand to brush away a stray tear from Seungkwan’s face with his thumb.

“Are you still horny?” Chan asks. “I mean, tears have never deterred you before, but I just wanted to check.”

Seungkwan’s responding laugh is watery. “There are more efficient ways of checking that, you know,” he replies. His eyes are still closed.

He can’t help but jump when he feels Soonyoung’s hand on his dick.

“I think there’s interest here,” Soonyoung says. “But your body is separate from your head, Seungkwannie. Of course, I’m happy to indulge if that’s what you want, but if you want a quiet night’s sleep tonight, then it’s what you’ll get.”

“That sounds like a threat, hyung,” Seungkwan replies.

“Maybe it is.”

Seungkwan giggles. Slowly, he opens his eyes and sees his whole world hovering above him, looking at him with warmth Seungkwan could drown in. Seungkwan slides his hands up to cup Soonyoung’s and Chan’s necks so he can pull them down and kiss them, one by one, easy pecks to their eager lips.

“I do admit that I’m tired,” Seungkwan tells them, “but maybe you’ll indulge me anyway…?”

Chan grins. “That’s our baby,” Chan replies. He kisses Seungkwan’s cheek. “Just relax. We’ll take care of you.”

Seungkwan trusts these two with his life. Trusting them with his dick is easy. Even the first time he was touched, it felt surprisingly natural to let it happen, to let himself go, despite his previous apprehension.

Three dicks in the equation actually makes for a great time, he’s learned.

Soonyoung kisses his way down Seungkwan’s body while Chan keeps his lips sealed against Seungkwan’s. Their mouths leave him burning in sensation; they leave him submerged in want. He knows by their touch that he’s loved.

That’s what he feels when Soonyoung takes him in his mouth. That’s what he feels when Chan holds him through it, slides his hands over his skin like he plans to draw a map of Seungkwan’s body in his mind. No inch of him is left untouched and he knows that this is for him, that no one else could give him this, that all he wants is this.

Soonyoung swallows him down and swallows his come easily, as usual, and it’s just as dizzying as the first time—maybe even more so now. With experience comes expertise, he supposes.

Soonyoung slides back up the bed and Chan relinquishes his hold on Seungkwan so that Soonyoung can have his turn. It’s an interesting dynamic, handling each other, handing reins back and forth so often that it’s a surprise they have yet to get tangled. That might be why Seungkwan loves it so much; there are so many avenues to explore and he’s so, so eager.

“Um,” Seungkwan speaks up once he’s able to get a hold on his voice again, “would you two—my last request is, um, that I get to watch. You two—I want you two to feel good, too.”

Soonyoung hums behind his warm smile and pets Seungkwan’s slightly damp hair.

“Now that’s a gift for us,” Soonyoung says. He glances over at Chan. “At least, I’d say so.”

Chan grins. “You know I love to put on a show,” he says. He meets Soonyoung’s gaze with a glint in his eye before turning back to Seungkwan. “Any requests?”

The question is enough to make Seungkwan blush. Being put on the spot is always a good way to fluster him. And, although he’s having an easier time with the sexual aspects of this relationship, thanks to his two supportive boys, it can still trip him up at times.

“Um,” Seungkwan says. He knows they want nothing more to please him. “Chan, you—you should be on top. Grind down on Soonyoung.”

“One of my favourite places to be,” Chan comments.

Seungkwan gathers his blankets and sits up to give them room. “It’s—you look good there. Insanely good.”

Chan laughs as Soonyoung settles onto his back. Soonyoung sets his ankles on Chan’s back, right above the swell of his ass, and crosses his wrists behind Chan’s neck.

“I like it down here, too,” Soonyoung says, more to Chan than Seungkwan.

“I love you, you know,” Chan says to Soonyoung. “You’re so good under me.”

Soonyoung smiles. “I love you, too,” he murmurs, and Chan starts to move his hips, reducing any other words Soonyoung may have had resting on his tongue to simple moans and whimpers.

Soonyoung’s legs hang in the air and Chan’s ass jiggles as Chan thrusts his hips. Truly a beautiful birthday present.

When they come down from their peaks, Chan and Soonyoung untangle with only a hint of reluctance. Chan peppers Soonyoung’s face in kisses until he giggles and bats Chan away, complaining of ticklishness.

Getting to witness their shared warmth is also a gift every single time Seungkwan has the chance.

Seungkwan wets a towel with a nearby water bottle and they clean up in comfortable silence.

“So, was that part two of the gift?” Seungkwan asks.

Chan shrugs. “Let’s say it was part B of part one,” he says.

“It wasn’t on the itinerary, but let’s say we left room for it on the schedule,” Soonyoung says.

“Sounds just like you two,” Seungkwan comments with a wry smile.

“You know us too well,” Chan says.

Soonyoung gathers the blankets and fans them out so that they fall on their bodies equally. A hyung despite himself.

“Let’s turn in so we aren’t late to part two of the gift,” Soonyoung says.

Seungkwan’s interest is definitely piqued.

“I’m guessing you guys are gonna keep it a secret from me?” Seungkwan asks.

Chan presses a forceful kiss to Seungkwan’s cheek and pulls him flat against the mattress.

“That’s the plan,” Chan replies. “But we’re easily swayed by your puppy eyes, so do us a favour and be patient, will you?”

“You know that’s not one of my strong suits.”

“If you know what’s good for you,” Chan says, “you’ll be patient. Right?”

Seungkwan wets his lips.

“Yes, sir,” he replies.

Soonyoung pats Seungkwan’s stomach under the sheets.

“Don’t start with the titles,” he says. “You’ll get him riled up again.”

Seungkwan laughs.

“One of these days,” Seungkwan starts, “I’ll learn how to keep my mouth shut.”

“There’s no rush, Kwannie,” Chan tells him. There’s another kiss to his cheek, like Chan can’t help himself.

“‘Cause you can touch, touch me’—”

“Soonyoung,” Chan snaps.

“Y-Yes, sir. I’ll be quiet, sir.”

The three of them crack up. It takes them a while to finally fall asleep, and when they do, they continue to chase each other in dreamland.

 

* * *

 

Someone’s alarm goes off. Seungkwan turns and nearly buries his face in Soonyoung’s armpit.

“Hyung,” Seungkwan complains.

“It’s not me.”

“Chan-ah,” Seungkwan says severely.

“Mm?”

“The alarm.”

“Not mine.”

Seungkwan groans. He tosses around in bed as the shrill sound continues.

“It’s not me!” Seungkwan cries.

Soonyoung cracks first, snorting. Then, Chan follows suit, breaking into hoarse giggles. They both sit up and the alarm is turned off and Seungkwan is ready to go back to sleep.

Not that his boys will let him.

The morning fog in his brain gives Seungkwan trouble with identifying who is laying kisses all over his face and who is drawing shapes on his stomach. But, as the gestures continue without rest, Seungkwan soon comes to recognize the feel of Chan’s fingers on his skin, the warmth of Soonyoung’s lips on his face.

“Morning breath,” Seungkwan grumbles.

“Deal with it,” Soonyoung replies.

Seungkwan cracks his eyes open just enough that he can make out Soonyoung’s face in the grey morning light before he gives Soonyoung’s lips pause with his own.

Kissing in the morning is not as bad as Seungkwan expected. It’s not bad at all.

As Seungkwan rubs the sleep out of his eyes, he sits up. Soonyoung quickly moves to use Seungkwan’s belly as a pillow. Chan sits up with him and tries to tame some of his bedhead.

“So,” Seungkwan says, voice rough with sleep, “what’s next on the birthday agenda?”

“Food,” Chan declares.

Seungkwan grumbles. “I’m already paying for dinner later,” he says.

“Well, obviously I’m paying,” Chan replies. “It’s my job as the youngest and all that.”

Seungkwan turns to look at him, an eyebrow raised. “It’s not that serious,” he says.

Chan shrugs. “Then let me because I want to,” he says simply.

Hard to argue with that.

Getting dressed is a bit of an ordeal because Soonyoung is handsy in the morning. He’s just handsy all the time. But eventually they make it out the door, dressed in a combination of the previous night’s clothes and Seungkwan’s shirts.

They don’t walk down the streets hand in hand, but they get close, walking shoulder to shoulder with their steps in sync.

Seungkwan is pleasantly surprised they have reservations at a cute but casual restaurant. The wallpaper is a bright, pastel pink and the decor is a cool, baby blue. The host that takes Chan’s name leads them to a booth near the back and Seungkwan settles into the seat across from his two boys.

“I guess this is a good a time as any for the big finale,” Chan says.

“One that doesn’t consist of a come shot to the face,” Soonyoung chimes in.

Chan rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“You always have to ruin everything, don’t you?” Seungkwan deadpans.

“Would I be me if I didn’t?”

Still, Seungkwan’s heart beats faster in his chest.

Chan takes a deep breath before leaning across the table to take one of Seungkwan’s hands. Soonyoung takes the other.

“Um,” Chan starts, “I guess this has been a long time coming—really, maybe it should have come sooner.”

It’s cute to watch Chan grow nervous: his eyes start to roam and his ears and cheeks turn pink.

“But—I just—” he pauses to swallow. “I wanted to ask—will you go out with me, Boo Seungkwan?”

Seungkwan blinks.

Soonyoung leans forward in his seat. “This is our formal request to make us boyfriends,” he explains. “Like—I think—we’ve been avoiding this, uh, this talk, but I think it’s finally time.”

Chan nods. “Yeah,” he agrees. “It hasn’t been all that long since we started, um, getting involved, but I just… I guess I wanted to let you know that I’m serious about this. About us.”

“I’m not just fooling around. I promise,” Soonyoung adds. “We’ll have an interesting future ahead of us—but I know that it’s what I want.” He pauses. “As long as you’ll have me.”

“And me,” Chan says.

Seungkwan blinks again.

“This is what you guys got me for my birthday?” he asks.

Chan and Soonyoung blink back at him. Slowly, warily, they turn to exchange looks with each other.

“Um—” Chan stutters.

“Well—” Soonyoung starts.

For a moment, complete silence falls over the table. The restaurant’s music swells at the same time, some sweet vocals round with emotion, and the three of them stare at each other with inscrutable expressions.

Seungkwan’s face breaks into a wide grin. Immediately, Soonyoung and Chan deflate with relief.

“It’s very sweet,” Seungkwan says. “And I appreciate the sentiment. The sleepover, the nighttime confessions, the followup the morning after.” Seungkwan takes a deep breath. “There was some considerable effort here.”

Chan plays with Seungkwan's thumb, rubbing his own against the nail.

“It's hard—er, difficult,” Chan says around a strange smile, “to buy any one of us gifts these days, but obviously—this had to be special, you know?”

Soonyoung nods. His lips are pressed into a line as he shifts his weight in his seat.

“But—you didn't answer us,” he says. “Do you accept? Like, can we be boyfriends?”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes and Soonyoung bristles.

“Don't roll your eyes at me!” Soonyoung says hotly. “I’m being serious!!”

Smiling, Seungkwan squeezes Soonyoung's hand. He lifts it to his mouth and presses a kiss to Soonyoung's knuckles.

“I know,” Seungkwan says. “I know. Of course we can be boyfriends. Of course I accept.” He turns his gaze onto Chan and kisses his hand, too.

The relief that radiates from them is palpable. As it bleeds out, it slowly transforms into happiness that dances between each of their bodies. Under the table, Soonyoung runs a socked foot up Seungkwan’s calf, and Seungkwan laughs. Chan shifts in his seat and Seungkwan can see Soonyoung’s free hand float over to him.

Their waiter finally swings by.

“Sorry for the wait,” they say, “we’re a little understaffed right now.” They pause and glance between the three of them.

Soonyoung doesn’t move his hand or his foot.

“Uh, did you need a little more time with the menu?” the waiter asks.

Seungkwan realizes then that their menus aren’t even open.

With the best smile he can muster, Seungkwan turns to look at the waiter and says, “Yes, that would be great. And if you could get us some water, that’d be perfect as well.”

The waiter clears their throat. “Right. I’ll get on that ASAP,” they reply, and then they’re walking away at a brisk pace.

As soon as the waiter’s back disappears from view, the three of them burst into laughter. The entire booth shakes with their mirth.

“God,” Seungkwan gasps, “I don’t even know what’s so fucking funny.”

Soonyoung aims a gentle kick to Seungkwan’s knee. “I dunno about you guys, but just the fact that we got so serious right away,” he says, and his voice trails off into hushed laughter. “I can’t believe we found something more important to talk about than food.”

Seungkwan brings a hand to his chest. “Wow, now I truly feel honoured,” he says.

Chan squeezes the hand in his grasp. “As you should,” he says. “It’s your day, after all.”

Seungkwan smiles to himself. When the three of them finally separate their hands to open their menus, Seungkwan immediately feels the cold.

But it’s okay. There will be plenty of opportunities to hold hands again in the future. While today may be Seungkwan’s day, Chan’s day is not so far in the future. And then there’s Valentine’s Day. And White Day. And then Soonyoung’s birthday. And so many more occasions for them to spend together and celebrate.

The waiter returns and they finally place their orders. Soonyoung expresses his excitement about the food, as does Chan, and they begin to talk about the cuisine, the decor, tiny little things.

Seungkwan finds he’s content to watch them talk. He’s content to observe their interaction, the little hand gestures, the way Chan tilts his head towards Soonyoung as he listens, the way Soonyoung’s cheeks change shape as his mouth moves.

Seungkwan's sisters have always told him that he has a big heart with lots of love to share, but he didn't think that this is what they had meant.

“Oh, Seungkwan,” Soonyoung says, immediately catching Seungkwan’s attention. “They have a separate drinks menu that we didn’t look at. Do you want an iced coffee or something?”

Seungkwan smiles. When Soonyoung leans over to show him the menu, he doesn’t look right away. His eyes linger on Soonyoung’s face, still turned towards the menu. He feels his smile growing.

“I would love an iced coffee,” Seungkwan says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading! feel free to reach out to me on twt @ shujeongs if you want to talk about this obscure ship ♥


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